Our Time In The Dark
by DaughterOfPoseidon333
Summary: He was good and pure and full of light. A symbol of hope and freedom. And yet he chose to spend his nights in the dark, holding her bloodstained hands, trying to break down her walls. She decided maybe it was time to let him in. Either that or the darkness would swallow her whole. And then she would only drag him down with her. Romanogers 1940s AU. Rating may change.
1. Taken

**Hello, all!**

**New story time! Whether you are new to my Marvel stories, or returning to read more, welcome! I have a bit of an author's note ahead, so just bear with me, please.**

**So, I've had this story in the works for a while, planning it out, writing it, editing, all that stuff. It's not complete (I don't even think I'm halfway through), but I have enough written right now that I can start posting weekly chapters.**

**Basic summary: this is a 1940s Romanogers AU, so Natasha was alive in the 40s as well, and that is when she and Steve first met, instead of during the events of Avengers. This story focuses mainly on Steve and Natasha, but there will be hints of Bucky and Nat, Steve and Peggy, hints of Stucky. Really, all the ships :) In this story, Natasha was born in 1918, so she is the same age she is right now in the MCU. **

**There are hints of stuff from the comics. Now, I have not read the comics, so anything I get from them is from what I have researched online. So I apologize if there are mistakes. For this story, I'm incorporating the Red Room, where Natasha was trained, and I'm also having her have been injected with the Red Room equivalent of the super-soldier serum in this story.**

**I think that's about it. If I think of anything else you guys need to know, I will let you know in future chapters :) For now, simply read on to find out what happens.**

**I do not own Captain America or anything Marvel related.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_Outskirts of Strasbourg, France; 1946_

Natasha felt like her lungs were going to burst. She was running faster than she'd ever run in her life. Her boots pounded against the pavement, echoing in her ears, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of her own heart beating against her ribcage. She gripped her pistol tighter, ready to put her finger on the trigger at any moment. She risked a glance over her shoulder to see the ruins of the old warehouse district she had just come from. One of the buildings was burning, flames licking out its shattered window, smoke billowing into the lightening sky of the coming dawn.

It was supposed to be one of those 'get in, get out' missions. She, along with a dozen other newly dubbed SHIELD agents, had gone in to scope out the warehouse. It had once held an old Hydra cell that had splintered off after Red Skull died, and they were simply going in to see if they left anything behind. As it turned out, the abandoned group of warehouses hadn't been so empty after all. The other SHIELD agents were all dead; all of them either gunned down or fallen victim to the inferno.

Natasha wasn't running from the fire or from the pesky Hydra goons that had been scattered throughout the building. No, she was running from the person—the _thing_—that had killed a whole team of men, everyone but her. She hadn't seen much—he was fast. _Very _fast. The only thing she remembered seeing of him through the smoke and shadow of the building was the silver glint of something on his left arm. The rest of him had been dressed in black, as if he had been born of the smoke itself.

Usually, Natasha probably would have stayed behind to fight the adversary, to make him pay for taking the lives of those good men. But she had watched the deadly stranger take out each and every one of her agents with terrifying precision, either with his gun or a well-aimed grenade, leaving only her standing. And instead of aiming his gun at her head in the sheer delight of saving her for last, he'd aimed his gun lower, at one of her kneecaps. That's when she'd realized that he didn't mean to kill her. He meant to hobble her, cripple her enough so he could take her. She watched him through the haze. He slowly inched his finger onto the trigger, taking his precious time because he knew he had her. She was about to dodge; at least maybe then she could get away with a graze, if she was lucky.

As it turned out, she had a stroke of luck when a fire from one of his grenades sparked against the gas line of an old water heater that sat against the far wall, at least fifty feet away. The air seemed to still for a split second, right before an explosion rocked the entire warehouse. Natasha had been thrown to the side, landing hard on her shoulder, hitting her head against the solid floor. Her vision went black. She could feel the heat from the explosion against her back, singeing the ends of her hair. Craning her neck, squinting through the haze, she couldn't help but think of a different building, a different fire. It seemed like yesterday, though it had been a couple years now. She could almost feel Steve standing beside her, shielding her from the flames, just like he had done when they first met.

She kept telling herself to move, to run and get out of there, away from the fire and away from the strange man. _Get up, Natasha. Get up! _Her brain screamed at her, but she couldn't seem to move. She wondered if it would be so bad if she stayed here, waiting for the flames to engulf her. Maybe then she'd see Steve. She wasn't a believer; not in God, not in a higher power. She knew that she was alive and one day she would die. End of story. But maybe, maybe there was an afterlife. One could hope, right? She wondered, though, if there _was_ afterlife, if she would really end up where Steve was. She figured it was more likely that she would go down, not up. _Up…get _up. _Get up get up get up! Run, Natasha, run! Natasha! Run! _She could still hear her mind screaming at her. And then it changed. It changed from her own subconscious voice to Steve's voice, screaming at her, pleading her to get up and _run. _

Natasha gasped and coughed when she inhaled smoke. She dragged herself across the floor a few feet, rubbing dirt and ash into the scrapes on her palms. She pulled herself to her feet, reaching for her gun that had fallen a couple yards away. As she stumbled towards the door, she risked looking over her shoulder to see if the man had been downed by the explosion. For a brief moment, she felt relief flare in her chest. Then she saw him rise out of the smoke and ash. A deadly phoenix ready to burn her. She took a few unsteady steps towards the door and then turned and ran.

Natasha was running now, down the empty, weed-pocketed road that led away from the group of warehouses. She could see the gate in front of her, could see the jeeps parked just outside the tall, iron fence. She was just about to break through on the other side when a body knocked into her, causing her to drop her gun, and a cold hand wrapped around the back of her neck and slammed her into the chain-link fence in front of her,

She gasped, the wire digging into her cheek as the hand squeezed. Then she was thrown onto the ground and she crawled backwards on all fours, staring up at her opponent. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face and goggles over his eyes, so the only thing she saw of him was his dark, shaggy hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in several months. In the light of the coming day, the silver glint she had seen in the warehouse, what she had assumed was part of the protective gear he wore, she now saw that it actually _was _his arm. His right arm was all flesh and bone and blood. The arm of a fragile human. But his left arm was completely metal, emblazoned with a blood-red star. The arm of a man that was now part machine.

Natasha scrambled for her gun, but the man caught her leg and dragged her towards him. She gave a defiant cry, kicking out with her other foot. He blocked the blow, but by then he'd pulled her close enough so that, when he bent down to grab her arm, she was able to swing her free leg up around his neck. She twisted out of his grasp, bringing her other leg up around his neck, and squeezed with her thighs, trying to choke the air out of his lungs. He clawed at her, trying to get her off.

Unfortunately for her, he managed to get a hold of her wrist and he used his whole body, creating enough momentum to tear her off of him. She landed hard on her back, all the air rushing out of her lungs with a gasp. Natasha attempted to stand, but he backhanded her, the metal cracking across her face, sending her straight down to the pavement. She could taste blood in her mouth, the coppery liquid coating her tongue and lips. She flipped onto her back, staring up at the man. He loomed over her. Part of her just wanted to lay there and let him take her. But in the back of her mind, just like in the warehouse, she could hear Steve murmuring, encouraging to keep going, keep fighting.

With all her strength, she swung out one leg, knocking the man off his feet. He twisted, to avoid hitting his head. He didn't stay down long, either, but just long enough for Natasha to rush to her feet and push through the gate. She slammed it behind her and rushed to one of the jeeps. She had just gotten the door open when he grabbed her sleeve, dragging her back a few feet.

"No!" she screamed. She would _not _let him take her.

She grabbed the arm that was holding her and dropped to one knee, the momentum allowing her to flip the man over her shoulder. He stayed down for a second, dazed. She took her opening. Natasha jumped over him and managed to get inside the jeep and lock the door. She had just started the engine when his metal fist slammed through the window, causing glass to rain down upon her. His hand fisted in her jacket—a leather jacket that had once been Steve's that she swore still smelled like him sometimes—and the man tried dragging her through the window.

Shards of glass that remained in the window frame bit into her palms and she tried to grab hold of the jeep and keep him from taking her. Blood trickled down her fingers, weakening her grip as her hands became slippery. She screamed in protest, but the stranger's grasp only tightened and he finally succeeded in pulling her out, glass scraping her lower back and thighs as she was dragged out and dropped unceremoniously onto her back.

Natasha could do nothing but watch as he brought his metal fist down against her temple and everything went black.

-:-

_Stalingrad, Russia; December 1943_

_Steve lowered his binoculars and tucked them into one of the bags on his motorcycle. He walked back a little ways into the trees, his boots crunching in the snow underfoot. He joined the rest of his Howling Commandos where they stood around the hood of one of their trucks, looking over a blueprint of the building they were about to raid. They were situated on a hill that overlooked a small military-like compound. The area was surrounded by tall wire fences, topped with barbed wire. There were hills on two sides, giving the compound cover, but also providing Steve and his comrades with a very good view of the entire place. _

_The building they were looking at was the base of operations for the program they were trying to infiltrate—the Black Widow program. Steve had never heard of it before, but from the file Colonel Phillips had given him, he gathered that it was a fairly underground operation, using something called the Red Room to train some of the most ruthless and skilled assassins Steve had ever heard of. They had heard from sources in the area that Hydra was possibly involved. Steve and his Howling Commandos had been sent to see if the Hydra rumors were true and to gather as much information as they could on the Black Widow program._

"_All right," Steve looked at each of his Commandos in turn. "Shall we?"_

_Steve divided them into teams, each team able to cover an exit. Steve waited with Bucky, about 100 yards from the main entrance. Bucky had his sniper rifle ready, aimed on the single guard waiting by the door. Steve waited to give orders. He had noticed that the encampment, though well lit by tall lamps, it was fairly empty. There was no distant sound of chatter, no sound of engines revving. Almost nobody to be seen. The guard waiting outside the door was the first person had seen so far. Part of him wanted to wait, to see what they were truly up against. But he had orders of his own. He was supposed to infiltrate the base as soon as possible, and that meant tonight. _

_Steve looked over at Bucky and gave him a single nod, which was followed by the crack of Bucky's rifle. The guard dropped to the ground like a stone. Steve waited a moment, listening for the sound of oncoming enemies, but nothing came. He spoke into his com, ordering the other Commandos to enter the building. He and Bucky followed, taking quick, light steps over the terrain, covering each other's backs as they ducked into the building._

_Inside it was just as quiet. _

"_This all seem a little…._off _to you?" Bucky whispered._

"_More than a little," Steve responded._

_They turned a corner and spotted another guard. He barely had time to raise his gun before Steve's shield was across the length of the hall, knocking the guard unconscious with a blow to the head. Steve grabbed his shield and they continued to make their way through the building. For a compound that supposedly housed some of the greatest assassins of the twentieth century, Steve was starting to feel slightly underwhelmed. Neither of the men they'd come across had put up much of a fight. _

"_Dugan, Falsworth, have either of your teams found anything?" Steve asked through his walkie-talkie._

"_Nothing here, Cap," Falsworth replied. _

"_Quiet as a church mouse," Dugan agreed._

_Steve didn't respond and clipped his walkie back onto his belt. He and Bucky entered a large room. There were punching bags lined up in a neat row along one of the rafters. Lines of tape formed a large square in the center of the room, like a boxing ring, except there were no mats of any kind. There was other training equipment stacked along the opposite wall, and on the back wall, there was a single steel door that looked like it led down another hallway, towards the center of the building. Whatever kind of training facility this was, it was cold. All stone and hard places, full of sharp corners and even sharper instruments._

_Steve frowned at the …_inhumanness _of it all. With what were clearly old blood stains on the floor, it seemed more like a slaughterhouse. Only those who were strong enough, fast enough, and cold enough would survive to see the light of another day. _

_ "Let's go check down that hall," Bucky suggested. _

_ They headed to the back, easing the ajar door all the way open. Steve held his shield up, feeling Bucky right behind him. It was silent except for the whirring of machinery farther down the hall. They passed a firing range on the left and an ammunitions and weapons storage room on the right. The hall ended in a door on the left. Entering the room, Steve saw it was a small control room. There was a few panels on the wall, a desk of buttons and levers, and empty chairs at the different stations. To the right there was staircase that led down into the lower level. From what he remembered of the building blueprints, Steve guessed that staircase was the upstairs entrance into the boiler room. The whirring was louder here, a dull roar that traveled up the stairs and filled the room. Steve took a look at the control panels while Bucky wandered over to the right to take a quick look downstairs. _

_ "Hey, Steve," Bucky's voice called out a minute later. "You better come take a look at this."_

_ Steve headed down to Bucky who was standing by the base of the stairs, near one of the furnaces. Steve was about to ask Bucky what he'd found when he saw the problem for himself. He felt his heart sink at the sight of the mess of wires and metal, all strapped together to create a crude bomb. A bomb with only five minutes left on the timer. The pieces clicked together in Steve's head. Most likely the Black Widow group had been tipped off that they were coming and they abandoned ship. They left a few meaningless pawns in place to be taken out by him and his Commandos. To top it off they'd placed the bomb to get rid of any and all intel they had. And if he and his comrades were in the building when it went off, even better. _

_ "We better go warn the others. _Now,_" Steve said. _

_ "You got that right," Bucky muttered. _

"_Go out the back door for the boiler room, get the others," Steve told his friend. "I'll make sure there's no one else upstairs."_

"_Be careful," Bucky warned._

_Steve grinned, clapping his best friend on the shoulder. "Always."_

_Bucky rolled his eyes. "Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it's situations like these where I always end up having to pull your ass out of the fire."_

"_Go get the others," Steve urged. "Quickly."_

_Bucky took off in the other direction, further into the ground floor, while Steve headed back up, taking the stairs two at a time. He was just about to step into the training room they'd been in earlier when somebody landed a solid, two-footed kick to his chest. He was knocked back, taken by surprise. He recovered quickly, though, getting back on his feet fast enough to see the assailant swing effortlessly down from one of the rafters. _

_When the person stood, Steve froze. It was a woman. She looked at him, her green eyes twinkling with something akin to amusement as she took in his surprised face. Steve stared at her. He tried not to—his mother had taught him it was impolite to stare at a lady—but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. She was beautiful. Her shoulder length red hair was loosely curled around her face, bright like flames against the stark grayness of the room. She was dressed down in fitted black pants tucked into black combat boots, topped off with a plain black tee. She stood poised, ready to strike again. The bomb's timer flashed in the back of his mind. He guessed he had four minutes left now. _

"_You're a long way from home, aren't you, Captain?" she smirked at him._

_Steve wished he could have been surprised that she recognized him, but he really wasn't. At this point he was a national icon. Even if people didn't recognize his face, they knew the red, white, and blue of his shield, his uniform. In this situation, though, Steve was at a disadvantage. She knew exactly who he was and he didn't even know her name._

_Steve took a step forward and she took one step back, though he doubted it was because she was scared of him lashing out at her. His assumption proved correct when she lunged again, getting low and bringing his feet out from underneath him. Angry at himself for letting her catch him off guard again, he leaped to his feet, throwing a punch in her direction. She deflected and tried to throw a punch of her own, which he blocked with his shield. He used his free hand to grab her arm and twisted, flipping her onto her back. _

_She recovered quickly, springing herself up, swinging a leg up around his shoulders and using her weight to bring him to the ground. She squeezed his throat with her thighs, blocking his arm with her hands as he tried to get her off of him. She looked down on him, her green eyes showing no sign of mercy and she squeezed her legs tighter, making him incapable of filling his lungs with air. He was running out of oxygen—and time. He was sure there had to only be a minute or two left till that bomb went off, and this close to the boiler room, he had no doubt he would go up in flames. _

_ He managed to bring a leg up, kneeing her hard in the back, pitching her forward. She released him, tumbling into a somersault over him. She was just about to get to her feet and attack him again, but he beat her to it. Steve slammed a fist into her stomach, hard enough to make her double over, a breath escaping her mouth with a strangled gasp. Steve acted quickly, grabbing her arms and pinning them behind her, lowering her down to the floor, onto her stomach, before she had time to lash out again._

_ "Look," Steve hissed in her ear. "I don't want to kill you, but if you don't stop fighting me, we're both going to die."_

_ "Well, maybe I'll become famous, then, for taking Captain America to the grave with me," she hissed. _

_She squirmed in his grasp, nearly breaking free, but Steve pressed his weight harder against her, eliciting a small cry of pain. Steve grimaced. He really _didn't _want to hurt her, but she wasn't giving him much of a choice. He pulled a pair of bonds out from his belt and secured them around her wrists._

"_Look, there's a bomb that's about to blow any second." He hauled her to her feet. "I'm just trying to get us both out alive. Because I don't believe you truly want to die."_

_He looked at her, and despite her still trying to fight against him even with her hands bound behind her back, he thought he saw something flash in her eyes when he mentioned the bomb. Worry, maybe? Suspicion? Fear? He couldn't be sure, because it disappeared quickly._

_She glared at him, green eyes burning. "If I didn't really want to die, why would I be in a building that's about to explode?"_

_ Steve didn't have an answer for that. She was just being defensive, he assumed. He clasped his hand around her arm, towing her along as he headed for the exit. She tried to break free from his grip and he tightened his hold on her. He had a feeling she could just use another one of her acrobatic moves to get out of his grasp and break free from her cuffs, but she clearly wasn't trying very hard. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to solve the puzzle of the bomb. _

_ "Let go," she said through gritted teeth. "_Before _I change my mind about gutting you, Captain."_

_ "Not a chance,"_

_Steve had just gotten them through the doorway of the training room when the explosion hit. They both fell forward, Steve catching himself at the last minute so as not to crush her. Heat scorched his back and debris rained down on them. That's when he remembered the munitions room and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before another explosion blasted through the building._

_He grabbed the woman's arm, getting her to her feet and running with her down the hallway. They'd made it about halfway when the second explosion hit. Steve shoved her against the wall, bringing them low to the ground and raising his shield up, protecting them from the wave of fire that engulfed half the hallway. When the flames had died down enough, Steve led her back the way he and Bucky had first come in. _

_Steve guided them around fallen rafters and twisted beams of metal. Ash rained down on them and Steve coughed, trying not to inhale any more smoke into his lungs than he had to. When they got to the door, it was half-melted into the frame, the metal still glowing orange from the heat. He let go of the woman's arm long enough to slam his shield into the door frame, hearing the metal groan under the weight of the blow. It took a few more tries, but it finally gave way. He had just grabbed onto the woman's arm again when he felt different hands against the front of his uniform, dragging him out and away from the immediate area of the burning building. _

"_See?" Bucky scolded him, taking his hands off Steve's uniform. "Told you I'd have to pull your ass out of the fire."_

_Steve just chuckled and then turned to look at the woman. "You okay?"_

_She rolled her eyes, giving a shake of her head. She muttered something in Russian and Steve was a little surprised, as well as impressed. Her English had been perfect when they'd spoken earlier. She was clearly one of the assassins in the Black Widow program and he figured they must have educated them as well as trained their bodies to become weapons. _

"_I'm fine," she finally said. _

"_Who's this?" Bucky asked, seemingly noticing the woman for the first time. His eyes lingered on her, eyebrow raised as he looked her up and down._

"_I don't know actually," Steve replied. "I was too busy trying to keep her from killing me to ask for her name."_

"_She tried to kill you?" Bucky asked, stepping forward an inch._

"_Tougher than she looks," Steve commented, looking back at her. She gave him a look of irritation. "Who are you, anyway?"_

_She stared at him, like she wasn't sure if she should answer or not. Steve watched her exhale slowly, meeting his eyes. "Name's Natalia," she said._

"_Natalia," Steve repeated._

"_She coming with us?" Bucky interjected._

"_Yes." Steve looked at Natalia, knowing the Colonel would want someone to question since any other physical evidence had been destroyed. _

_ As they were walking back to the trucks where the rest of the Commandos were waiting, Steve stuck close to Natalia, Bucky on her other side, one hand on his gun. Though she didn't look happy about coming with them, she didn't fight it either. He knew she could, too. He doubted it would take much for her to get out of her cuffs and escape, taking a couple of them out along the way. Part of him wondered why she didn't do just that._

_ They got back up to the trucks and before they got in, Steve pulled his brown leather jacket out of one of the trucks, bringing it across her shoulders. It wasn't nearly as warm as it would have been if she could put it all the way on, but he didn't dare let her out of her cuffs. She stiffened when the heavy material first touched her body, but then relaxed, and accepted the gesture in silence._

_ "Thank you," she said quietly after a long moment of silence. She looked almost uncomfortable as she said the words, as if they were foreign to her. He wondered what the last time was that she had something to be thankful for._

_ "You're welcome." He nodded._

_ She didn't say anything else, and Steve decided it was best to let her be. She was technically their prisoner. But considering she didn't try to escape, he figured they weren't off to a bad start._

**-:-**

**So there is chapter 1! I hope you all enjoyed! As I said at the beginning, I will be updating weekly, so I can try and write more chapters in between each update, so I (hopefully) don't fall behind.**

**Reviews are very much appreciated; I would love to hear your thoughts, comments, etc. if you noticed any factual mistakes or typos, let me know. Anything, really, I would love to hear.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	2. Interrogation Skills

**Hello, everybody! Just finished my first semester of college, so here is a little present!**

**I just want to start off by saying thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorite, and followed this story so far! **

**And, for the reviewer who asked to make the story angsty, don't worry. There will be plenty of angst :) Angst is probably my favorite thing to write, so just prepare yourselves :)**

**Also, for the reviewer who asked about the format of the chapters: yes, they will continue in this present then flashback sequence. That's at least how they are formatted for the first seven chapters or so. After that, there will be a pretty good chunk of chapters that are all flashback/set in the 40s. Then the chapters will mostly be set during the present time/when Steve wakes up and so on, with probably smaller flashback scenes in some of those present setting chapters. I hope that made sense to everyone. **

**Anyway, down to business :) I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_Hydra base in Strasburg, France; 1946_

Natasha opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light as she did so. She sat up quickly, the fire, the fight, her capture, all of it coming back to her in a rush. She stood up from the cot she had been laying on, which turned out to be a bad idea. Her vision went black for a moment and she stumbled back, sitting heavily back down on the cot. She gave a small gasp, bowing her head until her vision cleared. Natasha lifted a hand slowly, touching her temple where the man with the metal arm had struck her. She winced, the spot tender and sticky with mostly dry blood.

She stood up, slower this time, and looked around the room. It was small, with plain white walls, with a similarly plain door, and nothing in it but the cot she had been lying on. She checked her pockets, the back of her boots, for any of her hidden weapons. Not surprisingly, they'd been thorough. She'd have to improvise, because there was no way in _hell _she was staying here. Just as Natasha was about to take a step towards the door it opened and a man stepped inside. There were two guys backing him and two more by the door. Natasha's heart dropped a little. She'd taken on more guys than this at once, but with the way they were positioned, the second she went after the guys in the front, the two by the door would open fire on her. And their guns weren't exactly small. Force wouldn't get her out of here. At least not at the moment. She'd have to outsmart them first, before she could fight her way out.

Natasha straightened her back and held her chin high, meeting the lead man's eyes steadily. He was a fairly average looking man, not quite six foot, with brown hair, and an angular face. The formal suit he was wearing was perfectly pressed, a silver Hydra pin glowing dimly on his lapel. He had the posture of a military man. His hands were folded in front of him and with his arms against his abdomen, she could see a bulge in his jacket which undoubtedly was a gun. One corner of his thin mouth turned up at her, a hint of smug arrogance glinting in his blue eyes.

"Ms. Romanoff," he addressed her, German accent thick. "I am Anselm Ruppert."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You'll have to excuse me, I usually don't bother to learn the names of Hydra scum. Am I supposed to be impressed?"

He chuckled, but she could see offense had been taken. _Good, _she thought.

"No, you probably would not know who I am," Ruppert said, and she could tell he was a little bitter about the fact. "But perhaps you recognize the name General Werner Reinhardt?"

Natasha felt her heart crawl into her throat, and she forced herself to swallow it down, to keep her face passive. Reinhardt, one of Red Skull's top Hydra leaders, who continued his quest to find obscure and powerful artifacts for Hydra even after Johann Schmidt and died in the plane Steve had gone down in. Peggy and the Howling Commandos had captured Reinhardt in '45, not long after Red Skull had died, right before Natasha had helped Peggy and Howard Stark form SHIELD. Natasha had only seen Reinhardt in passing when he'd been taken into custody, but she remembered him clearly—his pale, angular face, white-blonde hair, and those wire rim glasses that almost made him more intimidating. It was clear, from those split-second moments that she'd seen Reinhardt that he was a man who had done horrible things and didn't regret them at all.

The fact that this man in front of her was taking Reinhardt's place meant that, even after its supposed fall, Hydra was doing just fine. Blooming, it seemed. Natasha felt white-hot fury blaze in the pit of her stomach. Red blurred her vision. She wanted each of them dead. She could do it. She could take them all out. She would kill all of them. Steve was gone because of Hydra and here they were, growing, thriving, a parasite with the world for its host.

"We have a few questions for you, Ms. Romanoff," Ruppert gestured for one of his guys to come forward. The hydra goon came up behind her and yanked her arms back. A second later she felt the cold metal of handcuffs against her wrists. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm. Shure, she could take these five guys out, but what about the rest of them? She had no idea where she was or how many Hydra agents were outside this stone cell. And that man with the metal arm could be one of them. She was wounded, not at full strength, and she couldn't beat that man before. She definitely wouldn't be able to beat him now.

She grudgingly let them lead her out of the small room. She started counting her steps down the hallway, noting when they turned. The place was huge. She nearly lost count of how far they'd gone. She caught glimpses of lab-like rooms, storage rooms full of crates, weapons rooms, all of them just snapshots at the pace they were moving. Finally they reached a steel door and they moved her roughly inside.

It was clearly an interrogation room, with a steel table in the middle of the room and matching chairs on either side. It had the cliché single bare bulb hanging over the table and she scoffed. Ruppert chose to ignore her and guided her over to the chair facing the door. He shoved her down into the seat. Natasha slouched back in her seat, looking as at ease as she possibly could, watching Ruppert as he sat down in the chair opposite to her. He folded his hands on the table in front of him, trying to put on a smile, but it turned into a half grimace. To anyone, he looked calm enough, but Natasha could feel his impatience charging the air.

"Ms. Romanoff, I will begin by saying that this will be much less painful for the both of us if you cooperate." Ruppert smiled with his lips pressed together.

"And if I don't?" Natasha challenged.

Ruppert tilted his head like he'd been expecting this response. He gestured to one of his men posted at the door. That man disappeared out the door. Ruppert was watching Natasha as she watched the door. She kept her relaxed posture, not giving away any indication of the bad feeling that was snaking its way through her insides. A few minutes later the man came back, and for the second that she thought he was alone, Natasha relaxed. That is, until she heard another set of boots approaching.

Natasha's breath caught in her throat as the man with the metal arm came into the room. He was wearing black leather and his mask over his mouth, though no goggles covered his blue eyes. He had a gun strapped to his back and she was sure there were various other instruments of destruction tucked inside his belt. He looked over at her, eyes cold, murderous even. She wondered if he even had another expression. The man walked almost soundlessly over to the corner, where he stood, silently, watching her.

Natasha swallowed and looked back at Ruppert, hating the gleeful glint in his eyes.

"Now," the Hydra agent addressed her. "Are you ready to cooperate?"

-:-

_SSR Base; December, 1943_

"_Colonel Phillips," Steve called out, saluting as he stopped the Colonel outside the interrogation room. "Has she said anything yet?"_

"_Not a word," the Colonel replied. "Whatever this Black Widow program was, they sure as hell knew what they were doing."_

_Steve glanced through the dirty window on the door, seeing Natalia Romanova sitting there, staring at the opposite wall, features completely passive, just like every other time he'd walked by and observed her through the window. She'd been here for three weeks and she hadn't uttered a word. Christmas had come and gone, and New Year's was nearly upon them, and the Colonel was losing his patience very quickly. _

"_Maybe if I could talk to her—?" Steve tried to offer._

"_No way in hell, Rogers," Phillips cut him off._

"_Then at least let me sit-in on the interrogation. She might be more willing to talk that way," Steve argued. _

_Colonel Phillips pondered that for a moment before heaving a deep sigh. "Fine—"_

"_Thank you, sir,"_

"_I wasn't done," Phillips snapped. "You can sit in, _but, _you are not allowed to say speak."  
>Steve nodded. "Understood, sir."<em>

_Phillips raised an eyebrow. "I mean it, Rogers. One word and I'll knock you out on your ass."_

_Steve nodded again and followed Phillips into the interrogation room. Natalia looked up at Steve as he sat down next to the Colonel, one corner of her mouth quirking up the tiniest bit._

"_All right," Phillips said as he sat down. "Brought you a friend. Are you ready to talk now?"_

_Natasha smirked, glancing between Steve and the Colonel. "Possibly."_

_Steve looked out of the corner of his eye at the Colonel, who looked like he wanted to hit his head against the table. Phillips shook his head and met Natalia's eyes. Steve could already imagine the scolding he was going to get after they were done. Something along the lines of '_I spent hours, weeks, in there with her and got nothing! You come in and she finally decides she's not mute anymore? I don't get paid enough for this crap'.

"_Okay, then," Phillips said, pulling a small notepad and pen out of his pocket. "Let's start with your name, then."_

"_What? Your super-soldier didn't put that in his report?" she said, raising an eyebrow._

"_Just answer the question," Phillips told her._

_She flicked her gaze over to Steve and he gave her an encouraging nod. She exhaled slowly, then met Colonel Phillip's eyes. _

"_Natalia Alianovna Romanova," she replied._

"_When were you born?" Phillips questioned as he wrote down her name. _

"_November 22__nd__, 1918 in Stalingrad, Russia."_

"_Parents?"_

_Natalia paused and Steve saw her jaw clench. "Dead," She finally responded._

_Phillips looked up at her and Steve thought the Colonel's expression softened a little bit. He didn't bother writing that down in his notes. _

"_Can you tell me what happened when Captain Rogers found you?" the Colonel moved on._

_With a quick glance at Steve, she started to recount the events at the base, matching what Steve had put in his report, only from her point of view. _

"_Just to clarify," Phillips said, waving his pen around. "You _didn't _know about the bomb planted at your super-secret training facility?"_

"_No," Natalia confirmed. "I did not. Otherwise I would not have been there when it went off."_

"_Any idea why they tried to blow you up? I thought you worked for this, uh, this Black Widow program?"_

"_I do," she insisted. "I _did, _at least. My guess? Clean slate."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_Exactly what you think it means. Wipe the program. They no doubt killed the other participants, burned all the files."_

_Colonel Phillips nodded, jotting down a few more notes. "So, why didn't they take you with them? Kill you with the others?"_

_Natalia gave the Colonel a dry smile, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "Colonel, I'm not someone you can just force into a back room and empty a bullet into my skull. I'm the person they ask to do the executions. Hence, why they left me on the base, hoping the bomb would take me out."_

"_And you didn't think to go look around the base? It's not exactly like they hid the thing," Colonel Phillips remarked. _

_Natalia exhaled. "I was given orders to stay at my post. Think whatever you want of me, Colonel, but even trained assassins follow their superior's orders. Maybe I should have trusted my instincts, but I trusted the program. I trusted my orders. Won't be making _that_ mistake again."_

_Phillips grunted and tapped his pen against his paper. "And those superiors you mentioned, where are they now? What about the program?"_

"_Oh, they're deep underground by now," Natalia told him. "There's no chance they'll be resurfacing anytime soon. And when they do, I can assure you there's no way they'll work with Hydra. Just like they weren't working with Hydra now. That's your concern, isn't it? Whether or not Hydra had the best assassins in the world working for them?"_

_The Colonel nodded. "You or your program weren't associated with Hydra in any way?"_

"_No," Natalia reiterated. "Never. In case you hadn't noticed, the Black Widow program is _Russian. _Hydra is _German. _And last I checked, Russia wasn't best friends with any of the Axis Powers. Plus, the Black Widow program is exactly the kind of group Johann Schmidt would want to eliminate. We'd be a threat to him and Hydra. We have the power to challenge him because of our skills, and as far as I know, he's all too keen on being the special one. The _only _special one."_

_She looked at Steve as she said this and he couldn't help but thinking of Schmidt, not too long ago when he'd gone to rescue Bucky and the rest of the 107__th__, when Schmidt had revealed what the premature serum had done to him. Red Skull could not have been a more befitting name. _

"_Thank you, Ms. Romanova. I think that's all we needed," the Colonel said, standing up from his chair. _

"_A thank you? That's all I get?" Natalia looked offended._

"_We'll let you know what our decision is regarding your release shortly," the Colonel told her. "Till then, sit tight."_

_As the Colonel headed for the door, Steve cast her and apologetic look and then hurried to catch up with the Colonel. _

"_Sir, wait!" Steve called._

"_What now, Rogers? I let you sit in on the interrogation. I got what I needed. That's it."_

_Steve shifted on his feet. "Well, what are you going to do with her?"_

"_Probably send her back to Russia, son." Phillips said. _

"_You can't do that," Steve protested._

"_Well last I checked, boy, I pull rank. You may be _Captain America, _but that doesn't mean you can be giving me orders. I can do whatever I damn well please with her, this is _my _base." _

"_If she goes back there, her superiors are going to hunt her down and kill her." Steve argued._

"_That's not my problem, Rogers." Phillips said. "Once she's back on their soil, she's not our responsibility anymore."_

"_Well, what if there was another solution?" Steve asked before he could really think about what he was saying. _

"_Yeah, and what would that be?" Phillips raised an eyebrow._

_Steve swallowed. "We could recruit her."_

_Colonel Phillips blinked, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, son, I must've had something in my ear. What the hell did you say?"_

"_Sir, I think we should take her on," Steve repeated. _

"_Yeah, that's what I thought you said," Phillips muttered. "The answer is no. In fact, make that a _hell _no."_

"_But sir—"_

"_Rogers, do I have to repeat myself? The answer is no! She tried to kill you! She is an assassin who we know nothing about, and the second you turn around she'll stab you in the back. No way I'm risking that."_

"_But—" Steve tried to protest one last time._

"_No more 'but's, Rogers!" the Colonel snapped. "We're done here. You bring this up to me again and I'll have you shipped out of here so fast…"_

_Steve nodded before Colonel Phillips could finish his threat. "Understood, sir. My apologies, sir." _

"_Damn right," the Colonel muttered before walking away. _

_Steve gave him a few seconds and made sure the coast was clear before he opened the door and slipped back into the interrogation room. Natalia raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, but she didn't say anything. Steve sat down, knowing that what he was doing could get him in serious trouble. He could feel a twinge of doubt worm its way through his stomach. He pushed it away. After all, it wasn't the first time that he'd blatantly ignored direct orders. _

"_Here to offer me a deal, Captain?" Natalia broke the silence finally. _

"_Sort of." He tilted his head. "I'm here to get you to switch sides."_

_Natalia barked out a short chuckle. She shook her head and gave him a look that he could've swore was damn near close to pity. "You really don't know a damn thing me. What is it about _assassin _that seems to have escaped your understanding? I kill for a living. I have no motive other than the fact that I am ordered to do so. Sometimes quite painfully. Sometimes I torture them first. I'm not a team player, Captain, and you certainly don't want me on _your _team."_

"_I believe everyone is worthy of second chances," Steve argued. _

_Her green eyes studied him for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I've used up all my chances, Captain."_

"_Not with me, you haven't." he shook his head. "You easily could have killed me at the base. I wasn't fighting for the kill, but you were. So, my only question is, why didn't you?"_

"_You got the upper hand," she replied flatly._

"_I don't believe that. And even if I did, you had plenty of chances to escape. At the base, on the way here. Even now, I doubt handcuffs and locked doors are a challenge for you, so you've had _weeks _to escape. Why haven't you?"_

_She was silent for a long time. Then, in a cool voice, "I'm not joining your band of—what are they? _Howling Commandos, _is it? Like I said—not a team player. I have no loyalty or to your United States—"_

"_Oh, but you're loyal to Russia and the people who tortured and manipulated you and turned you into a killer?" Steve challenged._

_Natalia's face turned into a stone mask, her gaze hard and icy, and Steve could see the east within her. She kept it well under control, years of training at work, but he knew, without a doubt, that she could kill him right here and now. _

"_Don't presume to know anything about me or my past, Captain," she said, voice low and sharp and dead-serious. A warning. Possibly a threat. "We're done here. I bid you farewell, Captain, seeing as they'll ship me off soon enough here."_

_Steve stood, his metal chair scraping across the stone floor harshly, making the quiet seem all that more deafening. He walked to the door and laid his hand on the knob._

"_Do you really want to run for the rest of our life?" he asked her, angling just enough so he could look at her._

"_I've done it before," she said coolly, her tone conveying that she was simply being polite, but not cooperative. "I'll do it again."_

_-:-_

_Over the next few days, Steve continued to sneak into the room they were keeping Natalia in. well, they called it a room, but Steve knew that it was her temporary cell until they shipped her out and back to Russia. All of his persuasive efforts, though, were met with snide remarks. That or she just plain ignored him until he left. Finally, New Year's Eve, two days before she was to be shipped out, Steve thought of something that was his last chance to save her. _

_When Steve entered her room, she sat up on her hard cot, watching as he sat down in the chair opposite of her. _

"_You just don't give up, do you?" Natalia wore an amused smile._

"_Nope. Not really my style," he responded._

"_You know, this persuasion thing hasn't really been working for you so far," Natalia pointed out. "What makes you think today is going to be any different? You gonna sing me a song? The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan, perhaps? Gonna wave an American flag in my face? Well, whatever it is you plan on saying, it's not going to work."_

_Steve shrugged. "Maybe not. But I figured you'd at least be interested in hearing what I have to say if it saves your life."_

_She was silent for a moment, and he could tell he had piqued her interest. "You really think I'm in so much danger in going back to Russia that I need saving?"_

"_I think you can take care of yourself just fine," Steve disagreed. "But I also think that if you really wanted to go back, you would have gotten out of here already."_

_Natalia exhaled through her nose, a flash of irritation crossing her features. "What do you want form me? I doubt you act this way towards all the people that have tried to kill you."_

"_You're right," he said quietly. "But I meant it when I said that everyone deserves a second chance. I'm giving you that second chance."_

"_Yeah, and what exactly would that be?"_

"_I saved your life. You owe me a debt. I'm giving you a chance to repay it."_

_She gave a short laugh. "A life debt? Who's to say I even believe in those?"_

"_I think you do," he said. "Which is why you haven't tried to escape. Look, I get it. You don't give a damn about me or the U.S. or whatever. But if you were to save the life of _Captain America_…you wouldn't have to run. You could go anywhere. All I'm asking is that you stick around long enough to fulfill that debt, and then you're free to go."_

_Natalia looked down at her hands, as if she could see something on them that he couldn't. "And what if I were to say no?"_

_Steve tilted his head. "Then there's not really much I can do about that."_

"_And if I said yes?"_

"_It's your choice," he replied. "I'm not asking you to like me or anyone else here. All I'm asking is that you let me give you your second chance."_

_She was quiet for a long time. She remained still, unmoving, the anticipation making the air thick and heavy. Finally, she sighed and looked back up at him._

"_The second my debt is repaid to you, I'm gone," she said firmly._

"_Understood." Steve nodded. "I'll go let the Colonel know."_

"_You didn't tell him?" she gave him a look and he shrugged innocently._

"_No point in telling him before you'd agreed to anything."_

_She just shook her head as he walked out the door._

_-:-_

_It took a nearly hour long argument to get the Colonel to agree to his plan._

"_A life debt," Phillips mumbled angrily as he stalked around his office. "Unbelievable."_

"_Sir, I know it's risky but it didn't feel right letting her go, knowing she'd be killed," Steve said._

_The Colonel looked at him incredulously. "She's an _assassin, _Rogers! She's killed plenty of people, including U.S. citizens! Or have you already forgotten all the reports I showed you?"_

"_I remember them very clearly, sir, but she was forced into doing those things."_

"_I don't recall any of the reports saying that she had a gun held to her head, making her shoot her target or else," Phillips countered._

_Steve's face fell. "That's a fair point, sir."_

"_Damn right, it is," the Colonel agreed. "I can't agree to this, Rogers, I'm sorry."_

"_But, sir—"_

"_Dammit, Rogers—"_

"_I'm sorry, am I interrupting?" _

_Steve turned to see Natalia standing in the doorway. The two guards that were escorting her turned and took up posts right outside the door. Phillips turned and gave Steve a dirty look, before looking at the red-head._

"_I'm sorry, Ms. Romanova, I don't think this deal—_unauthorized _deal—" he gave Steve another look. "is going to work out."_

_Natalia gave the Colonel a polite smile. "And I understand that completely. You have no reason to trust me. I sure as hell wouldn't trust me if I were in your shoes. It's a dumb idea."_

"_Thank you. I couldn't agree more," Colonel Phillips said a little smugly before Steve could even open his mouth to protest._

_Natalia turned her gaze briefly onto Steve. "But, the Captain here is right?"_

"_Come again?" Phillips asked._

"_A life debt is not something I take lightly. I owe him," Natalia said in resignation. "I'll cooperate until my debt is cleared, and then I will be out of your hair for good."_

_Phillips looked like he was going to pop a vein. He looked between Natalia and Steve, his jaw twitching. Finally, he heaved a deep sigh and turned to Steve. "You better be right about her," he muttered. "She can join the Commandos. Show her around, and don't take your eyes off her. I have some paperwork I'll need her to fill out, and more tomorrow as well."_

"_Yes, sir." Steve nodded._

"_Don't make me regret this, Rogers."_

"_No, sir." _

_Colonel Phillips dismissed Steve, and he waited outside the Colonel's office for Natalia to finish up the initial paperwork. It was an hour later when she came out._

"_You didn't have to wait for me," she told him._

"_Except I did. Colonel told me to keep an eye on you," he responded._

"_Right," she muttered. "Time for the grand tour?"_

"_Guess so. Ready to meet the rest of my Howling Commandos, Natalia?"_

"_Sure," she agreed mildly. "But it's not Natalia anymore."_

_He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"_

"_Hey, if I'm gonna be out in the open, fighting with you, I need to take some precautions. I don't want my name floating around if Russia starts looking for me. So, a little name change was in order."_

_Steve watched her for a moment. He figured, as a spy and an assassin she was used to changing her identity. He couldn't see himself as being anyone other than 'Steve Rogers', but she wasn't him. Even if Russia and the U.S. were allies, it didn't mean they were best friends. What tied the two countries together was their mutual hate for Adolf Hitler. And this act, joining his Howling Commandos, even temporarily, could be seen as her turning her back on her mother-country, trading it for another. Just another reason for Russia to seek her out and kill her. So, she was shedding one of the most identifiable things tying her to Russia: her name. _

"_So what should I call you now, then?" he asked politely._

_She met his eyes. "Natasha. Natasha Romanoff."_

**-:-**

**There's chapter 2! Hope you guys liked it :)**

**I'm working on chapter 8 right now, trying to keep p this pace of updating weekly. And now that I'm on break, I'm hoping to write quite a bit :)**

**Just a side note and something to think about for later in the story: I'm planning on writing this story up through the events of the Avengers and Winter Soldier. Depending on how far I am into this story when the time comes, I may include stuff from Age of Ultron as well. Anyway, I'm obviously not going to go through every detail of Avengers and Winter Soldier, but I have few scenes in mind that I may rewrite/add in from this AU POV. But if you guys have any requests for scenes from either Avengers or Winter Soldier that you would like to see in the story, let me know!**

**Please review! I would love to hear your thoughts and comments; it would really mean a lot to me!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	3. Frozen In Time

**Happy Holidays, everyone! I just want to start by saying thank you to you all for the continued support so far on this story; it really means a lot to me! **

**This is a shorter chapter, but the next one will definitely be longer.**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_Hydra base in Strasbourg, France; 1946_

Natasha didn't know how many times Ruppert repeated the same questions to her. He asked her about the Tesseract, about Red Skull. He asked her about Steve. The second his name was mentioned, her rage came back and she was certain, for a moment, she could've taken each and every single one of them on, even the metal-armed man. After a while, when she refused to speak—because she'd already given her answers—Ruppert resorted to other methods.

Natasha was no stranger to torture. Many of the methods used during her Red Room training could have been classified as torture. That training had hardened her, turned her into stone when sharp instruments and fists were taken to her skin. Hydra indeed made her bleed, all while the man with the metal arm stood and watched, silent, unmoving. When they finally decided that she wasn't going to give them anything, Ruppert back-handed her with a look of disgust on her face, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

"I told them she wasn't going to break," he spat as he turned away. "Take her to her cell."

When they arrived back at her cell, the goons escorting her dropped her unceremoniously onto the hard floor. She watched as they slammed the door behind them, and she heard the sound of metal against metal as a bolt slid into place, locking her in. She spat out a mouthful of blood onto the floor, splattering the off-white tile with scarlet. As she staggered over to the cot, her injuries—both old and new—stung. She figured it didn't matter much. They were probably going to kill her now, anyway, seeing as she hadn't given them any of the answers they'd wanted.

She ran through various escape plans in her head, counted how many steps from her cell to various room she'd seen, over and over again. She just had to stay calm, regain her strength, and get the hell out of there. She was Natasha Romanoff, after all. She was the Black Widow. She'd been through worse than this, and a few scrapes and a guy with a metal arm were _not _going to stop her from getting out of there.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she fell into an uneasy, fitful sleep.

-:-

Natasha had been lying awake for an hour or so when she heard the bolt on the door. She stood quickly, ready for anything. Ruppert stepped through the door, with two more guards than he'd had yesterday. Had it been yesterday? She had no clue how much time had passed since she'd last seen the vile Hydra agent, or even how many days it had been since the metal-armed man had captured her.

"I'm not going to answer any of your questions," she said bluntly.

Ruppert sneered at her. "Oh, I know that. I'm not here to ask you anymore questions."

"Dare I ask what you _are _here for, then?"

"No need," he replied. "You'll find out soon enough."

Ruppert nodded and three of his guys surrounded her, grabbing her arms roughly and they dragged her out the door. They walked quickly through the twisting hallways, her brain racing to come up with a plan with each step they took. She didn't have any weapons of her own, but considering how heavily armed her guards were, it wouldn't be any trouble to get one of their guns. If only she had a distraction—

"In here," Ruppert interrupted her thoughts, leading them into one of the labs they'd walked by yesterday. It was brightly lit, for the most part. One of the lights was flickering, scattering fractured light over the back of the room. The floor was made of the same off-white tile that was in her cell. There were several steel operating tables off to one side, rows of cabinets full of medical supplies on the opposite wall. Along the far back wall, there were a couple of metal pods, large enough to hold people, and what looked like a dentist's chair, but it was hooked up to some type of machine. She couldn't tell what it was, but she had a bad feeling about it.

As they passed one of the operating tables, Natasha spotted a tray with several medical instruments on it, and she managed to swipe a scalpel, concealing it beneath the sleeve of her jacket. They were in the middle of the room, but she could still easily get to the door. There were the three guards escorting her, plus Ruppert. There was an office in the far right corner, and through its large glass window, she counted four doctors inside, though they were all older, and didn't look like they would be much trouble. Well, it was now or never.

Natasha raised her arm and struck out with the scalpel, stabbing the guy to her immediate right. She hit the carotid artery in his neck, blood spurting out against her hand and face as he fell to the ground, scarlet coating his lips and burbling out of his mouth. Ruppert turned incredibly fast, but she was ready. She kicked out at him before he could draw his gun, and he crashed into one of the operating tables, falling head over heels.

The other two Hydra guards came at her. She threw the scalpel and watched, satisfied, as it sunk into the leg of the far one. He fell to one knee with a scream. The other Hydra guard raised his gun and she ducked just as he fired. When she rose, she grabbed his arm and pushed him back against the cabinets. Supplies were knocked out of the shelves, a couple glass bottles of morphine crashing to the floor, shattering against the tile. The guard struck out with his fist, connecting with her jaw. She recovered quickly, and Natasha slammed his arm against the cabinet, knocking his gun loose. She brought her knee up to his groan and before he could sink to the floor, she grabbed him and swung him around, using him as a human shield just as the other guard, still with the scalpel in his leg, open fired at her. His comrade fell, and with the gun she had knocked loose, she mercilessly shot him in between the eyes.

Grabbing another gun from one of the fallen, she ran for the door. Just as she was about to touch the handle, it swung open and the man with the metal arm came through. Before she could even react he struck her, and she fell to the ground, head spinning. Since she'd dropped one gun, she went for the other she'd tucked away. She fired at him, but he had already moved, knocking the gun out of her hand. His metal arm moved towards her and he grabbed her throat, lifting her off the ground. He squeezed and black spots started to form before her eyes. Natasha gasped, pulling at the metal gripping her neck.

"Stop!" Ruppert's voice suddenly sounded. "Put her down. We need her _alive._"

The metal-armed man stopped squeezing, and a second later, he dropped her. Natasha coughed, blinking until her vision cleared. Ruppert came over and yanked her up by her hair. To put it mildly, he looked pissed. He probably would have shot her himself if he hadn't just said that they wanted her alive.

"Doctor's!" he shouted, and they came scrambling out from the back room. Natasha saw their eyes flicker over the destruction, the scattered supplies, the bodies of the three guards, the blood coating the floor.

"I want a chamber prepped for cryo. Now!" Ruppert ordered.

"B-but, sir, we haven't run any tests on her," one doctor said. "We don't even know if she can survive it—"

"I don't give a damn about your tests, doctor!" Ruppert burst. "Prep the chamber _now._"

"Yes, sir," the doctor complied shakily. "Should we wipe her first, sir?"

"No," Ruppert said through gritted teeth. "I want her memory intact when we wake her up."

Natasha had no clue what they were talking about, but the fight drained from her body. Hydra reinforcements gathered in the room behind the metal-armed man, and she knew there was no way she was getting out this time. Two guards came forward, taking her from Ruppert's grasp. They led her over to one of the pod-like chambers in the back as the doctor who'd spoken opened it up and started hitting buttons on the side of it. They took off her jacket and shirt, leaving her very exposed in just her bra. She was wrestled into the pod, and one of the other doctor's strapped her in and poked and prodded her for what felt like hours.

Ruppert stood by and watched with cold satisfaction. She watched him turn to one of the other doctor's casting a quick glance over his shoulder to the man with the metal arm. "I want him wiped and prepped as well. They're both going in."

"Yes, sir." The doctor nodded.

The doctor led the soldier towards the dentist-like chair contraption. The metal-armed man had just started to take off his jacket and was about to pull off his mask when the chamber closed around her. Natasha struggled, trying to see out the small circular window on the pod. The sound of machinery whirred around her. She pulled at her bonds, squirmed in her tight confinement, feeling every last ounce of hope drain away. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe, but the panic stayed, pressing against her ribcage. She closed her eyes. She could see Steve. Feel his lips against hers right before he boarded Red Skull's plane, right before he died. The panic and fear expanded inside her and her eyes snapped open long enough to see ice form over the small window. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was the cold seeping so deep down into her bones she felt like she would never get warm again.

**-:-**

**Hope you guys liked it :) the next chapter will be up in a week, so stay tuned!**

**As always, please take a moment to leave a review! I love hearing your guys thoughts and comments or even questions that you have. Feel free to shoot me a PM too. I would really just love to hear what you guys think, since I plan on making this story a long one, so any comments you have, or things you think I can improve, would be very helpful because I want to make this story as enjoyable for you guys as possible :)**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	4. Escape

**Happy New Year everybody!**

**Hope everyone has had a good rest of their holidays. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorite this story so far; it really means a lot!**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

Natasha woke with a gasp.

One second she was under, deep under, a force like the ocean pushing and pulling her down, crushing her under its weight. Then the next, she jolted awake, breaking the surface of the water. She sucked in several mouthfuls of precious oxygen, feeling her lungs expand and compress with each breath she took. Memories flashed behind her lids, a jumble of words and images that made her dizzy. _She was crying, tears blurring her visons, tears for the man in red, white, and blue. A funeral, kept small, but she knew people everywhere were wearing black for the fallen hero. An emblem of an eagle, for Steve, to protect the people he had died protecting. The shattering of glass and the crackle of fire and her screams of defiance as the man with the metal arm took her away. They brought her God knows where; it was dark and cold and reminded her of the way she felt after Steve died. They tested her, questioned her, but she did not break, so they froze her. _

Natasha let out a strangled cry. Her mind felt like it was splitting in half. Memories continued to rush forward. She tried to block the onslaught of emotions and images that were barraging against the walls of her skull. She went to reach up and clutch her head, only to find that she couldn't move. She looked down to see that leather cuffs bound her wrists and ankles, strapping her down to a metal operating table. She strained against the material, hearing the thick cuffs stretch, but they didn't come off. Not that she really expected them to.

Natasha wiggled her wrists, trying to get some leeway so she could at least get one of her hands out. While she did this, she looked around the room she was in. It was small, probably no more than fifteen feet across and ten feet wide. The walls were made of heavy gray bricks, with a single, heavy steel door set into the gray wall in front of her. She didn't see any cameras in the room itself, but she would bet money that they had at least one installed outside the door. Last she remembered, she'd been wearing nothing more than her bra and pants, but they'd put her in a t-shirt and her leather jacket was sitting on a small table next to her, along with a glass of stale looking water.

She took a deep breath and looked down at her right hand, which she was trying to release from its bond. She squeezed her hand together, making it as small as she possibly could. He tugged and pulled while simultaneously wiggling her hand bit by bit, watching the leather of the cuff crawl slowly up her skin. It took several more minutes and she glanced at the door often, expecting someone to come in any minute and sedate her, put her back under and tie her down so it would be impossible for her to escape. But it was quiet, eerily so. The only sounds were her own labored breathing and the pounding of her heart.

Finally, with a small gasp of victory, Natasha's hand popped free of its bond. She immediately rushed to undo the clasp on her left hand, freeing that wrist too. She made quick work of the straps around her ankles and then she slid quietly off the cold table and slipped on her jacket. Her combat boots were soundless on the stone floor as she crept over to the door. The door had a small, dirty window on it and she looked through it. She saw a hallway stretching out to the left, a dead-end to the right. There wasn't a security camera that she could see, but there were two guards posted outside her door. Though they were fairly heavily armed, with large assault rifles held across their chests, they both looked bored, half-asleep. They probably weren't expecting her to wake up any time soon, much less get out of her bonds. Natasha almost laughed at how easy it was going to be to take them out.

When she reached out to quietly test the doorknob, she found it locked, as to be expected. Natasha exhaled slowly, pushing her hair back away from her face. She looked back at the cuffs that had strapped her down just moments before. Even if she could get the metal tip from the buckle out, there was no way it would fit in the tiny lock. She had nothing on her to pick the lock, either. That meant Plan B. taking a deep breath, Natasha reached out and knocked on the door. She moved quickly, pressing back against the wall, hearing the guards outside react. Seconds later, one of the guards slowly started to open the door, gun held up. Before he could get any further, Natasha struck down on his arm, catching him by surprise. She twisted the gun out of his grasp and then swept his feet out from underneath him. As he went down, she smashed his head against the wall, knocking him out cold. By the time the other guy realized what was happening and moved for his rifle, Natasha had already fired two rounds into the second man's chest before he had time to put his finger on the trigger.

She fired two more rounds into the unconscious guy's chest for good measure. Natasha grabbed another of their pistols and a tactical knife and tucked them into the back of her pants. She held the other pistol aloft, listening to see if anyone else was coming her way. When she was sure she couldn't hear the sound of an army's worth of footsteps pounding her way, she moved forward down the hallway. She moved quietly through the halls, letting her instincts guide her. She came across a few more people who, too surprised to do much other than stare at her, were easily put down.

She was grateful for being so unchallenged, but it almost made her more uneasy than if the place had been crawling with Hydra members. She'd had tons of security on her before they froze her, so what happened between then and now? Even as she thought that, Natasha wondered exactly when _now _was. Had she been frozen for a few hours? Days? Weeks? Her heart plummeted to think it had been years, but the only way she would be able to tell was when she got the hell out of there.

Natasha rounded a corner and found all those Hydra agents she'd been thinking about a moment earlier. She counted six. Five of them rushed at her at once. As she dodged their blows and dealt ones of her own, she saw the other agent head over to the far wall and pull a red lever. Alarms started blaring, red lights flashing haphazardly in front of her vision. She fired into a Hydra agent and swung up on another's shoulders, squeezing her thighs together to bring him down. A minute or two later and the five dead bodies that surrounded her. She turned and looked at the last man.

He lifted up a walkie-talkie, talking quickly into it. "Call in the asset, _now_! She's awake! I repeat, she's aw—"

Natasha didn't allow him to finish before emptying a bullet into his head. Stepping over his body, she headed the way she'd seen the agents coming from, hoping that wherever that was, there was an exit. She came up on a steel door, and peering through its window, saw a series of metal stairs and catwalks surrounding a large floor area, filled with crates, weapons, vehicles, and other machinery. People were running around, moving things, and coming from the far right corner, she saw a hoard of at least a dozen Hydra agents, all heading her way.

Deciding she had no better route, she pushed open the steel door and headed quickly down the first set of metal stairs. She counted the seconds in her head. _One, two, three, four…_She made it all the way to seventeen before she heard voices shouting and she looked down to see several of them pointing at her. Cursing under her breath, she started heading across one of the catwalks, pushing a worker off, barely hearing his screams as he fell and crashed down onto a huge pile of crates.

Just as she leaped down onto another set of stairs—all that much closer to freedom—she was knocked down. She saw the glint of silver out of the corner of her eye and dread filled her stomach. She didn't even have to look up to know who the asset was that they had called in. He struck down with his metal fist, and he probably would have crushed her skull if she hadn't moved. Natasha rolled, grabbing onto the edge of the stairs and swung herself down onto the catwalk below her. She felt the catwalk tremble as he followed. She jumped off that last catwalk and landed on the top of a large crate. She ran, bullets scorching the wood beside her feet as she ran. Just as she was about to leap off the grate and onto solid ground, a bullet clipped her arm, and she gasped, stumbling. She picked herself up, not daring to look back.

She jumped down, landing in a somersault, ignoring the sudden pain in her right arm. Ducking amongst the crates, she spotted the Hydra agents arranging themselves in a loose circle around her, but they weren't attacking. She figured the man with the metal arm didn't want them getting in his way. As Natasha skirted around a large truck, bullets ricocheted off the metal body, right next to her head. She found cover, but when she looked to see where the metal-armed man had shot from, she couldn't find him. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was _so close. _She could feel it. But the only way to freedom was getting past this guy, and several times now he'd stopped her from doing so.

She listened for the sound of footsteps, but, aside for the blaring of the alarms, she heard nothing. Moving her position just a couple of inches, Natasha was able to look around the other side of the truck. There, on the wall opposite to her, was a door. Some of the weight lifted off her shoulders. She had a goal now, she knew where she was going. First, though, she needed to figure out where the asset was. It was risky to just run out in plain view, especially when he could, quite possibly, be up on the catwalks—a perfect position to gun her down from. But, she supposed, it was better than sitting here waiting for him to sneak up on her and executing her from behind.

Taking a deep breath, clutching her gun in her hand, Natasha darted out from behind the truck and ran. She weaved in between the crates, keeping her eyes on the door. Yet, nobody fired on her. It was too easy. But the door was _right there _and Natasha could practically smell the fresh air.

Then, out of her peripheral, she saw him. Just a flash of silver and she was throwing her arms up to block his fist as he attempted to rain it down on her, and she lost her gun in the progress. He wore no goggles again, but his mask was still there, and she grabbed for it, but he caught her wrist. He twisted and she was flipped over onto her back. She rolled and came up behind him, kicking out at the backs of his knees. He stumbled and she kicked him down, grabbed him in a choke-hold. He struggled for a minute before gaining some strength and throwing her off him. Recovering, Natasha leapt to her feet and exchanged blows with him, parrying his fists as much as he was with her blows. Then, with some stroke of luck on her part, he overreached and she ducked under his blow, grabbing his arm and throwing him to the ground. He was just getting back to his feet, twisting out of her grasp, when she yanked off his mask.

Natasha's heart plummeted to the floor and she stumbled backwards. He must've seen the shock on her face because he paused in attacking her. With the mask gone, she could see who clearly was beneath it, but her brain refused to process what she was seeing. Her heart, clenching in her chest, was telling her the truth of the situation, that it was _really him, _but it _didn't make sense. _She'd _been there. _She had watched Steve reach out, hand so close to that of his best friends. She had heard the metal creak and snap. She had watched him fall, watched him _die. _And yet, here he was, standing here in front of her. It was the same man, but a completely different man altogether. Natasha backed up, not wanting him to get any closer.

"_Bucky,_" she breathed.

His brow wrinkled in confusion, but it quickly faded, and he moved towards her again. There was no recognition whatsoever in his eyes.

"Bucky?" she tried again. "James? Come on, it's me. It's Natasha."

There was a slight pause, and then he spoke, his voice familiar but completely different at the same time. "I don't know you."

Natasha could barely think; all she knew was that she had to get out of there. She pushed one of the crates closest to her, startling him just long enough to run the last hundred feet to the door. She burst through into a moderately sized warehouse yard. It was less busy than inside the warehouse, with just a few trucks going here and there, people too preoccupied with moving supplies to put all their attention into stopping her. She sucked in the fresh air. Focusing on breathing helped…kind of. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn't dare look back.

She pushed her legs as fast as they would go, her lungs burning in her chest. Alarms screamed behind her and the gates started closing. A few guards were trying to rally in front of the gates, but she barreled through them before they could even flick the safety off their guns. She squeezed through the gate right before it closed and made a sharp turn into an alley. She made several more sharp turns, trying to get herself lost so there was no way they could find her.

Natasha finally decided it was safe to head out onto a main street. She slowed her pace to a walk, trying to blend in with the people walking alongside her. She felt better now that she was out of that place, but she wasn't safe yet. And as she walked, eyes flickering over her surroundings, her hopes were only dashed further. With the bustling of traffic and the sight of a—mostly—familiar skyline, she figured out she was in New York. So they transported her to the U.S. after freezing her. But that wasn't what bothered her. The buildings were different, the cars were longer and thinner, the clothes people wore were different. Natasha walked a few more blocks, the uneasy feeling growing in her stomach the further away she got.

She spotted a newspaper stand and stopped, ignoring the weird looks she got. She was bloody, beat-up, probably looked more than a little out of her mind. Overall, she was sure she looked horrible, but at the moment she didn't care. She looked at the top of the paper, eyes searching out the date. Just when she thought she couldn't lose any more hope, she just about broke down right then and there. _May 27__th__, 1968. _Her head was swimming and nothing was making sense. Except, it all made perfect sense. They'd frozen her. _For twenty-two years. _

-:-

_SSR Base; December, 1943_

_ During dinner Bucky cornered Steve. _

_ Bucky was still getting used to looking up at his best friend versus down. Though he was shorter than Steve now, Steve still managed to look tiny as Bucky gave him a look._

_ "You _recruited _her?" he whisper-shouted, glancing over Steve's shoulder to see Natalia—or, rather, it was _Natasha _now—sitting at a table with Peggy Carter. The two women were conversing politely, but almost everyone else in the dining hall was giving Natasha wary looks. Rumors had flown fast around base that she was an assassin with dozens, probably hundreds, of kills under her belt. With her loose, bright red hair she stood out like a flame in the dimness of the mess hall. _

_ Bucky looked back at Steve who was gaping like a fish. Bucky nearly laughed. His best friend may have grown almost a foot and gained a shit-ton of muscle, but he was still that awkward little kid Bucky had befriended on the playground when they were kids. And for all the clever one-liners Steve made, he was terrible under pressure. _

_ "Well?" Bucky prodded._

_ "I didn't technically _recruit _her. It's more like she'll be part of the team till she repays her debt," Steve replied lamely._

_ "A debt, Steve? That's what you got her on? Seriously? She tried to kill you!"_

_ "Yeah, and, well, now she owes me," Steve argued. "She'll be fine. She agreed willingly. Mostly willingly, anyway."_

_ "You ever stop to think why that is?"_

_ Steve shrugged, a look of uncertainty crossing his features. "It was her best bet, I guess."_

_ "You don't know anything about her, Steve. How do you know she won't just end up stabbing you in the back?" Bucky asked, his worry—the worry he'd held since childhood—creeping into his voice, which he tried so hard to keep under control._

_ "She won't," Steve promised gently._

_ Bucky sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this battle. "I could throttle you, you know that?"_

_ Steve grinned and Bucky felt some of his worry melt away. _

_ "You wouldn't know what to do without me," Steve quipped. _

_ Bucky rolled his eyes as they headed back to the table Natasha and Peggy were at, but Bucky knew it was true. Bucky didn't have many friends, but Steve had always been there by his side. Steve sat down next to Natasha, on the opposite side of Bucky._

_Before he sat down on the bench next to Peggy, Bucky held out a hand to Natasha. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," he said with half a smile as Natasha reached out to shake his hand, green eyes meeting his. "I'm Sergeant James Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."_

"_Natasha," she replied, watching his every move as he sat down and got comfortable on the bench. _

"_I heard," he replied. "I've heard a lot of things about you the last few hours, actually."_

_Natasha's face went from polite openness to cold and shut down in half a second. Her green eyes watched him dangerously and she sat up straighter, her body becoming taut, like a wire. Bucky flicked his gaze over to Steve, who gave him a warning look. Peggy shifted beside him, clearing her throat softly. The lighthearted air around the table had disappeared, but Bucky didn't care. Natasha's pretty face made her look harmless enough, but that didn't mean Bucky gave her one inch of trust, especially around Steve._

_Natasha leaned forward, gaze boring his. "Tell me, Sergeant Barnes, what have you heard about me?"_

"_Enough," Bucky replied, not letting her faze him. "You're an assassin. You've killed people. Tell me, is that, like, a dozen kills? Two dozen perhaps? Or are we talking more triple digits?"_

"_Bucky," Steve hissed softly._

"_It's fine," Natasha said, one corner of her mouth quirking up the tiniest bit, though the rest of her features remained unchanged. "Let me ask you, though, Sergeant...how many people have _you _killed? Hmm? Tell me, what makes you so much different than me?"_

"_I am _completely _different than you," Bucky said calmly. "I don't go around killing people for no reason."_

"_The people giving me orders had plenty of reason for having me cross them off. Did I always know that reason? No. But I was following orders. Just like you are."_

_Bucky clenched his jaw, unsure of how to respond. Natasha seemed to notice that she had him and sat back in her seat. Steve and Peggy had been quiet for the rest of the exchange. Bucky risked a look over at Steve who gave the tiniest shake of his head. Bucky knew his best friend was disappointed, angry, even, at his behavior. And maybe he _had _been a little out of line, but it didn't mean he felt bad about it._

_Peggy cleared her throat and stood suddenly. "I'm going to excuse myself. Natasha, I will make sure to get you somewhere to sleep. I'll come get you when everything's ready."_

"_Thank you, Agent Carter," Natasha replied politely, never taking her eyes off Bucky._

_Peggy left, and a moment later, Steve stood. Bucky did the same, followed by Natasha. The three of them walked in a deafening silence. When Bucky looked over, Natasha seemed at ease, despite the tense air between them. Steve, though, was pointedly not looking at either of them, his back stiff as he took the lead through base. They had almost gotten to their quarters when Colonel Phillips stopped Steve._

"_Rogers, a word, please," the Colonel asked, ducking back into his office._

"_Yes, sir," Steve mumbled. He then turned to look between the two of them. He didn't say anything, but his gaze lingered on Bucky a moment longer and Bucky got the message: don't do anything stupid till I get back. Bucky nodded, but the second Steve disappeared inside the Colonel's office, Bucky turned on Natasha._

"_What the hell are you doing?" Bucky hissed, pulling her towards the corner of the hallway so they had more privacy._

"_Standing," she replied bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest._

"_I mean what the hell are you doing _here_?" he edited. "One minute you're trying to _kill _Steve and the next your best buddies? Agreeing to team up with him? Why?"_

"_I owe him. I'm just sticking around long enough to pay my debt to him, and then I'm gone."_

"_Don't give me that bullshit," Bucky snapped. _

"_It's the truth," she ground out._

"_Right," he scoffed. "This is coming right from the goodness of your cold, dead heart. Don't even try to lie. This is about your own damn self-preservation!"_

"_Yes!" she shouted softly, an angry fire burning in her green eyes. Despite being quite shorter than him, she was intimidating, standing just as firmly as he was. "You're right. If I go back to Russia now, they'll find out I'm alive and eventually they will hunt me down and kill me. Sue me for wanting to not run the rest of my life. Doesn't mean I was lying when I said I wasn't going to hurt Rogers."_

"_Why should I believe you?" Bucky snapped at her._

"_You shouldn't. No one here should. Trusting me in the first place is stupid. But if I make a promise, I keep it. You have my word that I will not hurt Steve Rogers." She paused. "Your precious Captain America."_

_Bucky kept her gaze, feeling his own anger bubble up inside of him. "You better mean that, or—"_

"_Or _what_? You'll _kill _me?" she was smiling, looking almost like she was trying to stifle a laugh. Apparently his threats were simply amusing to her. "I said I wouldn't hurt Rogers. I never said anything about not hurting you."_

"_You wouldn't dare."_

"_Oh, wouldn't I?" she lifted one delicate eyebrow. "How do you know? The point is: _you don't know. _You don't know a damned thing about me, Sergeant. Just because you hear a little gossip while standing around the urinals does not make it true. So don't you _dare _presume to think that you know _anything _about me."_

"_Natasha?" Peggy came up just then, before Bucky could even think of a good response._

"_Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes," Natasha dipped her head politely, but her face held no warmth._

_Then she was next to Peggy and the two of them were walking away down the hall, disappearing around a corner just as Steve came out. _

"_What's wrong?" Steve asked as he approached. "Where's Natasha?"_

"_Peggy came and got her," Bucky replied flatly. _

"_Okay," Steve said slowly. "Well, are you all right?"_

"_I'm fine. I just….I'm sorry about the way I acted," he muttered. _

_Steve sighed and nodded in understanding, giving Bucky a quick clap on the shoulder. "Look, Buck, I know it's a risk, bringing her on. But I didn't think she deserved to get killed for following orders. I think I can trust her for the time that she's here. I know you don't, but at least if you don't trust her, please trust me."_

_Bucky nearly laughed at how quickly Steve could melt his resolve with just a few words. Bucky shook his head and chuckled. "Yeah, I trust you, punk. I still don't trust _her, _but I'll at least try to be…_polite, _okay?"_

_Steve laughed. "Better than nothing, I suppose."_

"_Damn right," Bucky grinned._

_Bucky figured it wouldn't do any good to crush Steve's hope in Natasha by telling him that she wasn't in it so much because she wanted to switch sides, but more so to save her own skin. So he followed Steve back to their quarters and, as he settled in for the night, tried not to think about the fiery red-head coming in here in the middle of the night and gutting his best friend._

**-:-**

**So, there's chapter 4!**

**If you would, please take a moment to leave me your thoughts! I would love to know what you guys think so far!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	5. Night in New York

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_New York City; May 27__th__, 1968_

Natasha should have felt bad for snagging a couple of guys' wallets, but she needed a place to crash for the night, and a bench in Central Park wasn't exactly the safest place, especially if she was on the run from Hydra. _Hydra…_She took a shaky breath as she let herself into the motel room. The lights flickered briefly when she turned them on, before settling on casting a dull yellow glow over the single room. It smelled like stale cigarettes and mold. The bedspread didn't match the walls. Natasha figured she'd been in worse places.

She kicked off her boots and socks, then stripped of her jacket and headed into the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked in the mirror, now knowing why she'd gotten so many weird looks on the street. And then again when she'd asked for the room, paying in advance with the cash she'd stolen. The owner had looked at her warily, with maybe even a hint of fear, but he'd handed her the key and even some extra towels.

Just as she was about to start examining all of her various wounds, there was a knock on the room's door. He senses turned back on high alert. She made her way silently over to the door. She figured Hydra wouldn't knock—they would just break the door down—but she was cautious nonetheless. She inched the door open just a crack, shielding most of her body behind it even after seeing that it was just the motel owner. The old man looked at her shyly—and still a little warily—and held one hand up in surrender.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "I mean you no harm. I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, and it's none of my business, but I can at least offer some help. I brought you some first aid supplies, some soap, and some clean clothes. They're probably too big, but it's all I could find."

Natasha reached out carefully and took the first aid kit and the clothes. She probably shouldn't have accepted his aid. If Hydra came after her, the first thing they would do is target the people she'd encountered, and torture them for information, but she was too desperate and tired to care. She would be gone by morning, anyway.

"Thank you," she said.

"I, uh, also brought you some food," he said as he reached down next to him to pick up a paper bag and reach it out to her. "Thought you might be hungry."

Natasha gave him a smile. "Thank you, really. I just….thank you."

He nodded, giving her a small smile back. "No need to thank me. You be careful, all right?"

Natasha nodded and watched him head down the hall. She ducked back into her room, clutching the supplies to her chest as she quietly shut the door. She set the clothes, which consisted of a fresh shirt, socks, and a pair of blue pants that were a different material than she was used to. She brushed her fingers over the stitching on the back pockets, which formed a sort of V-shape, remembering that it wasn't 1946 anymore. She set the bag of food down and grabbed the soap, heading back into the bathroom.

She stripped down, looking over every inch of herself. There were cuts all over her face, dried blood crusted over all of the old ones. Her hair was matted and stringy from going so long without washing it. The bullet graze on her right arm hurt like a bitch. It wasn't too deep, but wide enough that she would need to patch it up after she showered. She had bruises everywhere, spotting her skin with blue and black. Due to the serum injected in her when she was doing her Red Room training she healed quicker, though not as quickly as Steve did. As Steve _had. _She had to remind herself that Steve was gone, he was _dead. _

But apparently Bucky wasn't.

He flashed behind her eyes and Natasha suddenly couldn't breathe. _Bucky was alive. _He was _alive. _Somehow…_somehow _he had survived the fall off the train. Hydra had gotten to him and they brainwashed him, gave him a new arm, and molded him into nothing but a weapon. When his mask had fallen off, some semblance of humanness had returned to his eyes, but still, he'd looked right at her, she'd said his name, and he had had no clue as to who she was. He had tried to _kill _her. The same Bucky who had fallen in love with her, fallen like he'd fallen for Steve. Fallen in love with her just like Steve had.

She was breathing hard now, sinking to the floor, curling her naked body in on itself, as if she could shield herself from the truth. Natasha couldn't even pretend that what she had seen wasn't true, though. The proof was on her body itself, written in the bullet graze on her arm that was still oozing blood slowly. She held her head in between her bloody, dirty hands, forcing herself to take deep breaths despite the situation at hand. She wasn't going to get anything done in this state.

Shoving to her feet, Natasha turned on the shower and hopped in before even bothering to wait for the water to heat up. Even the cold water felt good, once she got over the initial frigidness of it. As she rinsed her body of all the sweat and dirt and blood that covered it, the water still icy, she thought back to her Red Room days, the first week to be specific. She had been a child then, scared, with a fire burning inside her that she did not yet know how to wield. Memories flashed in her head during that first week when, in the middle of the night, her trainers had grabbed her from her bed, bound her hands behind her back, and brought her to a room that only held a giant tub of ice water.

Not knowing then _how _to fight back—only knowing she _had _to fight, to survive—she struggled while they dunked her repeatedly. Each time they pulled her up, icy water ran down the front of her shirt, soaking her torso. The few seconds of air she got, she gasped for breath, sucking as much oxygen into her lungs before they sent her back under. It went on for a long time. The people putting her under were told to stop and she remembered one of the head trainers leaning down to whisper in her ear, _"I'm disappointed in you, Natalia. Disappoint me again and next time I won't tell them to stop". _They'd left her there, on the soaked floor, shivering, forcing her to make her way back through the dark to her bed. She hadn't cried. Only vowed to herself that, next time, _she _would be the one to put a stop to it. And she did.

Only now she was faced with something she wasn't sure she _could _stop. At least not alone. Natasha tried to push thoughts like that out of her head as the water finally warmed up. She used the soap the motel owner had given her and scrubbed herself clean. She had to admit that the shower felt good, that she felt better. She stood under the stream, enjoying the feeling of cleanliness, until the water started to turn cold again. Once out of the shower, she patched herself up with the first aid kit. It was now a lot easier to see what actually needed bandaging after washing all the excess blood off her body. She ate the food the man had given her—a turkey sandwich and an apple. Then she curled up under the covers, naked, saving the clean clothes for tomorrow when she woke.

Natasha thought it would take forever to fall asleep. There was a constant stream of images flowing through her mind—images of Bucky, with that mask torn off; of Steve, and everything about him; of buckets of ice water in dark rooms while men yelled in Russian. She closed her eyes and saw blood, so much blood. She heard voices, indistinct, screaming at her. And yet, when she finally did drift off into sleep, not a dream disturbed her.

**-:-**

** That chapter was a little shorter, but I hope you liked it nonetheless :) the next chapter will be much longer and we'll get to see some more of Howard Stark!**

** Please, please review! It would really mean a lot to me and I really would like to know what you guys think of the story so far, and what you hope will happen in the future, or any predictions you have. Seriously, anything you want to say, I am all ears. **

** Thank you all so much for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**

**P.S. For those of you who watched the Agent Carter premiere, wasn't it absolutely FANTASTIC? :) Peggy Carter is amazing and there will definitely be more of her coming up in the story in a few chapters or so. **


	6. Howard Stark

**Hi, everybody!**

** A big thank you for all the support :) I'm really glad to hear that you're all liking the story so far. The feedback means so much to me!**

** I don't own Captain America.**

** Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_New York City; May 28__th__, 1968_

Natasha woke early the next morning and cleared out of the motel room, leaving the key to the room on the front desk while the manager was in the restroom. The morning was fairly cool, the sun only just peeking over the horizon, yet the city was already bustling. After having a couple hours of fairly decent sleep, Natasha felt slightly more relaxed than she had yesterday. Everything was slowly sinking in, and though she was still uneasy about it all, she was letting her instincts take over. She had been on the run before. She was trained, skilled, and anything Hydra threw at her she could take on. After all, she was the one to have made it through all the training, _she _was the Black Widow.

She decided the first thing she needed was to know what had happened. From the couple times she'd been to New York City on missions for the Black Widow program, she'd mostly learned her way around the city. At least enough to know where the major buildings were, and she was confident as she headed in the direction of the New York Public Library. As she walked, she stayed alert, scanning the faces as the crowds rolled past her in waves.

She couldn't help but think about Steve. This city was his home. Steve had promised her one that, when the war was over, he would take her to New York. He promised to show her around Brooklyn and all his favorite places. _"There's this neat little candy shop just a few blocks from where I live…they've got all the goodies." _Natasha wasn't much of a tourist, but she knew that with Steve showing her around, she would have loved it. Had he gotten the chance to make good on his promise, he probably would've taken her to Central Park, and when he held her hand, she would act annoyed, but would secretly love it. He would've packed them a picnic, and as she lay on her back, staring up at the blue sky, he would have pulled out his sketchbook and drawn her. Those were all just fantasies now, though, because she was here and he wasn't.

When she stepped into the library—a huge marble edifice with its matching marble lions sitting out front—she immediately sought out where all the exits were and came up with several different escape plans in her head in case Hydra found her. Natasha made her way to the back, where the newspapers were archived. She scanned the bound volumes of old papers and found one on the 40s. Her heart jumped nervously. Steeling herself, she found a corner cubicle to sit in, right by a door that she could exit through if need be. Natasha started flipping through the yellowed pages, moving up through the 40s. There was a lot on the war, which she expected. The war hadn't ended that long ago, less than a year—except….that was wrong. The war had ended nearly 23 years ago. Her fingers started to tremble as she froze right in the middle of turning the page.

Natasha took a few breaths, exhaling slowly to calm herself down. Looking around, she was glad there was no one else in the room, which wasn't too surprising. There had been a calendar on the front desk when she'd come in, and she'd seen that it was a Tuesday. Most people at this hour were at work, not at the library looking at old newspapers. Natasha flipped past a few more pages before she stopped.

She thought her hands had been shaking before, but really, it had been nothing. Her fingers grazed over the faded, yellowed picture of Steve, donning his Captain America uniform. She felt tears stinging in her eyes, her heart crawling up into her throat. _'Captain America Dies Defeating Hydra' _the headline said. She didn't need to read the article because she knew what had happened. She had _been _there. The stitches she'd sewn herself up with back in 1945 opened up, and it took all of her strength to hold herself together. Tears fell from her eyes, splashing onto the old newspaper pages. She quickly wiped at them with her sleeve.

She laughed humorlessly suddenly. _God, _she thought. _What was wrong with her_? She was falling apart at the seams. She held her head in her hands, running her hands through her hair roughly. She could hear Steve's voice in her head and she tried to shut it out, holding her hands over her ears as if that would shut the noise out. She'd only allowed herself to cry about his death right after it happened, and since then, she'd locked every emotion up inside of her, caging it in. That cage shook inside her now, her emotions slipping through the bars like smoke through a vent.

Her resolve broke and she had to put a hand to her mouth to choke back the sob that was so desperately trying to escape past her lips. Steve was dead and she was alone with Hydra on her tail. Hydra, who they thought they had put an end to back in the 40s. Peggy and the others were probably alive—if they hadn't been killed by Hydra or some other outside force—but Natasha had no idea where to start looking. Howard and Peggy had started SHIELD in '46—not too long before Natasha was taken—after they had gone back state-side, while Natasha stayed overseas to finish up the final sweep for Hydra forces. But since then, Howard and Peggy had probably moved from the New York/New Jersey area. They had probably started lives'.

Natasha wondered what they thought, when she disappeared? Did they suspect Hydra? Did they hear of the wreckage and think her dead instead of kidnapped? Natasha wiped at the tears on her cheeks, and sucked in a deep breath, knowing the only way she would get the start of some answers was if she kept looking. She flipped to the news from '46, but found nothing on herself. She figured that Peggy and Howard—assuming they investigated the wreckage of that old Hydra warehouse she'd gone to—had thought her to be dead. And even if they thought she had simply gone missing, with her past—which they knew she kept under wraps—they wouldn't dare say anything about her possibly being alive, in case others came looking for her and found her before Peggy and Howard did.

She sighed, closing the bound volume quietly. She returned it to its place on the shelf and went back up to the front desk, asking for a phone book and a piece of paper and pen. She sat down at a table and started flipping towards the Cs. Natasha at least hoped Peggy had found someone and gotten married, started a family, which meant she most likely changed her name, but it was worth a shot. Hell, even if she hadn't changed her name, she might not even be living in New York. After a good half hour of double-checking all the 'Carter's living in the area, Natasha decide that either Peggy wasn't in New York or she'd changed her name.

Natasha sighed in frustration, racking her brain for another solution…until she realized it was right in front of her. She quickly flipped to the S's, scanning the page for 'Stark'. Even if Howard wasn't in New York, he was famous. _Someone _around here would now how to contact him. But, with a fantastic stroke of luck, there his name was. _Howard Stark. _Natasha couldn't help the smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth. She quickly wrote down his number on the piece of paper she'd been given. She returned the pen and phone book, and quickly made her way outside, scanning the immediate area for anyone suspicious.

Digging in her pockets as she walked, she pulled out what little change she had left and made her way to a payphone a few blocks away. She slipped a dime into the slot and dialed Howard's number, flicking her eyes up out through the booth every once in a while to check her surroundings. She had seen nobody out of the ordinary, no possible Hydra agents all day, but that didn't mean there was any way she was going to drop her guard. The other line picked up and started to ring, and she got a nervous flutter in her stomach. What the hell was she going to say to him? If she even got the chance to say _anything. _She'd be lucky if he didn't hang up on her at the first sound of her voice. And she only had so many dimes to call him back with.

"_Mr. Stark's residence, how may I help you?" _a voice sounded on the other end, startling Natasha out of her thoughts.

"Yes, hi," Natasha started. "I'm an old friend of Mr. Stark's, but I haven't seen him in quite some time. I wasn't aware that he had moved, but I would really love to speak with him and catch up, if you wouldn't mind telling me where his current address is?"

There was a pause on the other line, and for a moment Natasha was afraid that this person wouldn't believe her and she'd be stuck at square one again.

"_He wants to know why he should trust you?_" the man finally said.

"Because Steve Rogers did," spilled out of her mouth with barely a thought.

There was another moment of quiet, where she could just barely hear words being spoken on the other end of the call. Then, the man came back on and relayed the address to her. She didn't even have to write it down. She repeated it several times over in her head till it was memorized. She said a quick farewell and then hung up, breathing a sigh of relief that at least _something _had gone right that day.

Howard currently lived in the top floor of a building he owned that was a couple miles away. It would take her a bit to walk there, but she didn't have any money for a cab, so walking it was. Natasha kept her pace normal, so as not to draw attention to herself, despite how eager she was to get there. It took her nearly an hour, but finally she reached the building—an impressive brownstone that took up a good portion of the block. She craned her neck up to look up at the top floor, a couple dozen stories above her. Natasha was about to hit the buzzer on the front door, but it swung open to reveal a rather tall man with dark hair that was graying along the sides.

"Edwin Jarvis," he introduced himself—Natasha taking note of his accent—and gave her a quick once-over. "I'm Mr. Stark's butler. We spoke on the phone. Please, do come in."

Natasha couldn't even get out a 'hello' before he was stepping back inside, giving Natasha no option but to follow. She was pretty sure she believed this guy, Jarvis, but for all she knew, this could be nothing but a false address and a trap waiting for her. He led her to the elevator and they rode it up to the top floor in silence, Natasha on edge the entire time. She only settled down when they stepped out and headed into a large office tucked in the back corner of the floor. Bookshelves lined one wall, a huge desk occupied the center of the office, and a couch and several chairs made up the opposite side of the room. Howard had his back to her, instead facing the expanse of bay windows that overlooked the city, but the second she saw him—despite his graying hair and the slight slump to his shoulders that betrayed his age—she knew it was him.

"Sir—" Jarvis started to say.

Howard turned and his jaw dropped and he looked like he had just gotten punched in the stomach. He regained his composure long enough to turn politely to his butler. "Thank you, Jarvis. You can go. I'll let you know if I need anything."

Jarvis nodded and stepped out of the office, closing the double doors quietly. Once they were alone, Howard's mask fell off and he stared at her, a thousand shades of disbelief coloring his features. Natasha felt herself relax for the first time in days. It was a risk being here, when Hydra could have easily followed her, but in this moment, it was completely worth it. Howard's face was lined with wrinkles, his signature mustache graying as much as his hair. Despite the age that lined his skin, he hadn't really changed. The air of confidence still radiated from him, making him seem taller than he was.

Natasha smiled a little, stepping farther into the office. "Nice place you've got here."

Howard blinked, looking stunned, like he wasn't entirely sure if she could still speak. Then he snapped out of it and took a few long strides towards her, pulling her to him in a tight hug. She hugged him back, losing herself for a moment in her friend's grip. She nearly laughed, too, because he even _smelled _the same after twenty plus years. They pulled apart after a minute, but Howard continued to look her over, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, making his eyes crinkle.

"I thought it was you, when Jarvis told me what you said on the phone, about Steve," Howard said, almost breathlessly. "But I wasn't sure…and now….now you're _here. _How—how is this possible? I mean, we thought you were _dead, _or missing, at best, and…."

Natasha chuckled softly. "Wow, Stark. Don't think I've ever seen you speechless before."

"That's funny," Howard said gruffly. "But I'm serious. What the hell happened to you? I mean, at the very least you should have _some _gray hair, but you don't look a day—"

"Over how I did when you last saw me in 1946," she finished. "I know. It's a long story."

"Well, my couches are very comfortable, and I have a very well-stocked kitchen," Howard said, leading her gently over to one of said couches. "My wife, Maria, is out of town visiting family, so you have my undivided attention."

Natasha tried not to make a face at the mention of a wife. She was happy for Howard, of course, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. While everyone she knew was building their lives, she's been frozen alive. She'd never necessarily wanted a family, but it might have been nice to grow old with her friends, to grow as the world grew, instead of being plopped in the middle of it, twenty-two years later.

Jarvis brought them food, and Natasha practically absorbed it, not even realizing how hungry she was. They talked casually a little more, before Natasha couldn't put it off any longer. She wrestled with herself, over whether she should tell Howard or not that the people who had taken her were Hydra. She finally decided that it was best. Howard had helped found SHIELD, and, assuming SHIELD was still up and running, they would be the only ones that would be able to stop Hydra. She plunged into what had happened, leaving out anything about the metal-armed man—_Bucky, _she reminded herself. Howard listened well. His features became more and more troubled the farther into her story she got, but he waited till she was finished.

When she was done, Natasha watched his face, waiting for him to say something. He was frowning, the action causing deep lines to form around his mouth. Howard ran a hand down the side of his face, giving his head a little shake. Finally, he looked up at her, reaching out to give her hand a quick, comforting squeeze.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing he asked.

Natasha didn't even blink. "I'm fine."

Howard looked like he didn't quite believe her, but he didn't push. "I just can't believe it…after all this time, after all that we'd done to stop Hydra, we never actually stopped them at all."

Natasha clenched her jaw, digging her nails into her palms. "I know," she whispered. "He died for nothing."

Howard didn't need her to clarify who the 'he' was; he already knew. Howard took her hand in his again, not squeezing it, but rather lending her his warmth, the warmth of another human.

"Steve did _not _die for nothing," Howard said firmly. "He saved the _world. _You and I both know that."

"It doesn't feel like that," Natasha argued through gritted teeth. "Hydra is _still here. _Steve isn't. They won."

"They didn't win, Natasha," Howard countered. "We know where to find the ones who took you. I can call into SHIELD, get them to send a squad in to clear the warehouse."

"Yeah, that's if they haven't moved by now. And you don't know if that warehouse is the only one. There could be dozens other. Hydra could have grown back to full strength after all these years."

"We don't know that," Howard said softly. "I'll send that squad. And if those aren't the only people working for Hydra, well, that's what SHIELD is for—to put a stop to people like Hydra."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Natasha muttered, looking away from him.

Howard chuckled. "Never thought I'd hear you say that. Especially not to _me._"

"I can take it back if you want," she laughed.

"No, no, that's all right," Howard smiled. The smile faltered after a moment, turning into something sadder. "I'm really happy to see you, Natasha. I wish…I wish the circumstances had been better, but it's good to see you—_alive_—nonetheless."

"It's good to see you too," Natasha agreed.

"Look," Howard said, spreading his hands wide. "You can stay as long as you like. I have plenty of room, and Jarvis is a lot nicer than he looks."

"Thank you," Natasha told him. "Really. I shouldn't stay long, though. I'm pretty sure no one followed me, but I don't know for certain. I don't want to put you in anymore danger."

"And I understand that," Howard argued. "But you just got here, and to be perfectly honest, you look like crap."

"Gee, thanks,"

"Anyway, just stay a day or two," he pleaded. "At least long enough so that I can tell you what happens after I call in the raid on that warehouse."

Natasha frowned, knowing he was right. "Fine. Two days. Then I'm out of here."

"Deal," Howard smiled, and for a moment, she saw as he was twenty years ago—what felt like just days to her—thick black hair, eyes brighter than they were now, no weary lines drawn across his face. Natasha felt a pang in her heart, but she forced it down, locked it up. She kept her face passive. This was her life now and she had to accept that. As much as she wanted to turn the clock back—for so many reasons—that was impossible. Maybe they could lock her up, freeze her, and she could wind up in the future, but the same couldn't be said for the reverse. She had to just keep pushing on like she always did. Like she was trained to do.

-:-

_SSR Base; December, 1943_

_ Steve uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again as he leaned against the wall outside of Colonel Phillips' office. The Colonel had wanted Natasha to finalize the paperwork, among other things, but he made Steve sit outside and wait. Steve thought it would be fine, that it wouldn't take very long, but she'd already been in there for over an hour. Normally Steve was pretty patient, but apparently he didn't have it in him today. Peggy had given him some information on a previously unknown Hydra base. It was small and close by—a short mission—but if he didn't act soon, they could clear out before he even got there. He actually should have left already, but he wanted Natasha to come with. He just wanted Phillips to hurry up already—_

_ "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Romanova—er, Romanoff," Phillips said as his office door opened, and Steve stood at attention._

_ Steve waited while Natasha said 'you're welcome' and shook the Colonel's hand. Then Phillips waved Steve over, and Natasha headed a little ways down the hall, out of earshot._

_ "We're all finished up," Phillips said. "I still want you to keep an eye on her. I'm clearing her for duty. After this new Hydra base is taken care of, I want a full mission report, as well as a report on her work out in the field. That means down to the nitty-gritty details, Rogers. I'm taking a risk with her, so if she can't perform properly and appropriately, and prove that she has turned her loyalty over to us for the time being, I want her gone. Am I clear?"_

_ "Crystal, sir." Steve nodded._

_ Colonel Phillips frowned, then gave a quick nod of his head. "Good. Dismissed, Rogers."_

_ Steve nodded hastily, then walked quickly back over to Natasha. "How did it go?" he asked, possibly a little too enthusiastically._

_ Natasha stared at him for a moment, clearly unimpressed. "Fine. He said I was cleared for duty, and that I was to join you on your next mission."_

_ "Yes," Steve agreed. "We need to get you geared up then."_

_ Natasha smiled just the tiniest bit. "Got an extra shield for me or something?" she joked._

_ "I don't know about any shields, but I'm sure Howard will have something that you'll like." He told her, leading her to a different part of the base, where Howard Stark's lab was located. _

_ When they arrived at the lab, Steve directed Natasha over to the tables of weapons laid out, while he called Howard over. As Howard bustled around briefly, struggling to take off his lab coat as he argued with another scientist about something Steve didn't bother paying attention to, Steve watched Natasha. She was dancing her fingers over the various guns laid out on one of the tables, picking one up every once in a while to test its weight in her hands. There was a glint in her eyes that Steve had not yet seen from her. _

_He now understood why many people on base gave her wary looks. Unarmed—though she still was intimidating—she could pass for normal. She could be anyone, anywhere. But with a weapon in her hands it was so much clearer that she, herself, was a weapon. Trained and honed to a point finer than any dagger laid out on one of Howard's steel tables. Her body moved fluidly, one with the weapon in her hands. Even when she put whichever gun she was holding down, Steve still saw it. There was a certain grace about her, her movements deliberate, quiet. She barely made a sound against the smooth floor. Steve suddenly remembered that she was an assassin. And not just any assassin—she was _the _assassin. She was the Black Widow. _

_As he thought about this, Steve felt a twinge of uncertainty in his gut. The woman in front of him was a _killer. _Not in the way he was, in that he killed people, bad people, for a reason. There was no purpose to her killing. She did it because she was ordered to. No questions asked, no doubts in her mind when she pulled the trigger. And yet, though she was virtually unreadable, the walls around her emotions completely solid, unbreakable, there was also some part of him, buried underneath his sudden, nearly overwhelming doubt, that couldn't help but trust her. Maybe it was a bad idea, but he decided it was time to give her an enemy worth fighting. _

"_See anything you like?" Howard asked as he came up beside Steve. _

_Natasha turned to him, holding two Walther PPKs. "These will do."_

_Howard stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "You got it. Natasha, right? I'm—"_

"_Howard Stark," Natasha finished for him. "I know. I've heard of the work you've done. Pleasure to meet you."_

_Now Howard just looked plain dumbfounded, and Steve was feeling kind of the same. "Pleasure's all mine."_

"_So, what else have you got?" Natasha asked, turning back to the tables without waiting for Howard to respond. _

_Howard looked at Steve, and Steve could only respond with a slight shake of his head and a shrug._

"_You sure know how to pick 'em, Rogers," Howard muttered. "Last time a woman picked a gun up off one of my tables, she shot you at point blank, hardly giving you a second to get that damned shield in front of your face."_

"_Well, Natasha already tried to kill me, so I don't think she'll try again," Steve replied, giving Howard a quick clap on the shoulder before rejoining Natasha._

**-:-**

** All right, so next chapter will be up in a week! Just a little note, after next chapter (Ch. 7) there might be a slightly larger gap between that and Ch. 8. And by slightly larger I mean that it might be two weeks instead of one. I'm back at school and I already have a little more work so far this semester, so I need a little longer to catch up on my writing. But don't worry about that all until after next chapter!**

** Second note: I'm planning this story to be written up through the events of Winter Soldier (and most likely Age of Ultron as well). Anyway, so, because of that, you're probably thinking "but Natasha knows about Hydra". Well, (and I hope it's coming across this way) I'm trying to write it so, yes, Natasha (and SHIELD in the future) know about Hydra, but they do not know the extent to which Hydra has grown, nor do they know that Hydra has embedded itself into SHIELD right from the beginning. So, (when I get to the Winter Soldier parts) it will not be so much a surprise to Natasha and Fury and SHIELD, etc. that Hydra is back, but the surprise will come from realizing that Hydra has been among them the whole time. **

** I hope that all made sense :)**

** If you have any other questions or if you're confused about anything else, let me know! Otherwise, please leave a review and just let me know what you think! All your comments and feedback and thoughts are very much welcomed and appreciated.**

** Thanks for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	7. Peggy

**Hey, guys!**

**Okay, so first, really sorry I didn't get this up yesterday; I was super busy. But it's here now! **

**Thank you all for all the reviews and follows and favorites; you guys are amazing!**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. For this chapter I totally made up Peggy's husband. We know he was military because Steve saved him on a mission, and that they were married sometime after the war but before 1954 (at least I think that's the date they had on that video Peggy did for the Cap exhibit in Winter Soldier). Anyway, happy reading :)**

**-:-**

_New York City; May 30__th__, 1968_

Two days after arriving at Howard's place, Natasha was already setting out to leave again. She had an old leather duffel of Howard's that had the supplies—food, clothes, medicine and bandages—he had given her all packed in it. Part of her didn't want to leave, but she also knew it wasn't safe to stay. She'd stayed long enough to hear the news from the SHIELD squad about how their raid on the warehouse had gone, and now it was time for her to go.

Natasha had told Howard the directions on how to get to the warehouse, and a rough estimate of how many guys she thought had been there at the time, so he could relay it back to the team, knowing it was best that she—in her current position—stay anonymous. Howard had told her after the mission was done that they _had _found Hydra members there, though maybe not quite as many as Natasha had suspected to be there in the first place. He said the SHIELD agents also said the compound had been emptier than what she described. Though, from what Howard told her, it didn't sound like they'd encountered the metal-armed man—which Natasha was grateful for.

In the end, SHIELD had succeeded in taking down a Hydra cell, but it also sounded like there were more of them. _"We'll find them, Natasha. They can't hide forever"_, Howard had told her. Natasha had accepted his words, knowing, at the moment, there was nothing much she could do about the fact. So, she'd decided on going to find another old friend.

"And just like you asked for, here is Peggy's address," Howard said as he handed her a folded up piece of paper.

Howard had already told her that Peggy lived in Washington D.C., but she checked the paper anyway, before tucking it into the pocket of her leather jacket. She'd thrown out the oversized clothes the motel manager had given her after Howard had insisted on taking her shopping for clothes that actually fit her. He also insisted on giving her a large sum of money, as well as one of his multiple cars.

She only half-heartedly argued against him giving her money, because, despite how much she hated accepting help from him, she _did _need the money. The car was a harder thing to accept. He said that he had plenty of other cars he could drive, and that she should have a car to drive down to D.C., anyway, instead of having to take the train. Finally, with enough pleading from Howard's end, she accepted the car.

Natasha looked up at Howard, attempting to give him a smile. "Thank you, Howard. For everything."

"No need to thank me. I'm your friend." He pulled her into a quick embrace. "You come visit any time, okay?"

Natasha pulled back and nodded. "I will."

"Good," Howard rumbled. "Now you better get going. You don't want to hit traffic. And just…be careful, all right? Take care of yourself."

She gave his arm a squeeze before stepping into the elevator. "I will. Good-bye, Howard."

Then the elevator descended and Howard Stark disappeared from view.

-:-

Natasha drove the whole four hours from New York City to Washington D.C. without stopping once. She tried to keep her head empty the whole time, pushing out any thoughts about Steve, or Bucky, or even Peggy. She simply focused on Peggy's address, floating in her mind, right behind her eyelids. Only when Natasha pulled up to the moderately sized brick house did all of her suppressed thoughts come flooding forward. She did the math in her head—Peggy would be 51, with a husband and kids, as Howard had told her. Natasha realized she herself would normally be turning 50 in November. That is, if she hadn't been frozen and didn't have the Red Room's equivalent to Steve's serum coursing through her veins.

She finally worked up the strength to step out of the car, her steps slow as she headed for the front door. Seeing Howard was one thing. Sure, she and Stark had been friends, but she and Peggy had been a lot closer. In truth, she thought she would never like Peggy that much when she first met her, but that quickly changed. Not just because back in '43, when Natasha had first arrived on the SSR base, Peggy had been like Steve—deciding to give her a chance first, before judging her on her past actions—but also because they bonded over both loving Steve. The pain Natasha felt over losing him was something only Peggy understood after it happened.

Natasha considered turning around, just leaving Peggy at peace, but then she realized she was already on the doorstep. Knowing she was being at least a little ridiculous, she exhaled and knocked on the door. A few seconds later and she could hear footsteps inside the house, coming closer and closer to the door until it swung open. A young man stood there, with dark hair and warm brown eyes. He looked no older than twenty, at most. He regarded Natasha with an open face, just the slightest bit of confusion lining his forehead.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Yes," Natasha replied. "Is…is Peggy home, by chance?"

The boy's face lightened, and he nodded. "Yeah. Mom, there's someone at the door for you!" he called out into the house.

Natasha felt her stomach twist nervously. The boy waited by the door until his mother, Peggy, approached. When Peggy saw her, Natasha noticed that she was trying to keep her face straight, to not betray to her boy—her son—what she was really feeling.

"Thank you, Steven," Peggy turned briefly to her son, and he walked off. _Steven, _Natasha thought. She nearly choked. But her reaction was cut off when Peggy turned back to her, and hand covering her mouth, tears shining in her eyes.

"Natasha," Peggy whispered. "Oh my god—oh, come in, please."

Peggy led her into the house and the door had barely been shut before Peggy was pulling Natasha into her arms. Natasha squeezed Peggy back, the graying hairs on her friend's head tickling her cheek. Natasha smiled, though Peggy couldn't see it. They stood like that a moment longer, before Peggy pulled back, holding Natasha's face in between her hands to look at her better. Peggy was smiling wobbly, her chin trembling just the slightest. Then, she grinned even bigger, a couple tears slipping down her cheeks.

"We thought you were dead, Natasha," Peggy said in a hushed voice. "What happened? I mean, how is this _possible_—"

Natasha held up a hand to stop her. "It's a long story. One that I think we both need to sit down for."

-:-

Peggy made them coffee. She offered to make tea, first, but Natasha decided she needed something a little stronger. Well, coffee was about as strong a beverage she could get without making it alcohol. Then Natasha told Peggy what she'd told Howard, once again leaving out the parts about Bucky, but adding in the new parts about finding Howard and the SHIELD raid. As she was finishing up, Peggy gave her knee a comforting squeeze.

"You have been through so much," Peggy said softly. "You didn't deserve any of it."

Natasha didn't know what to say to that, so she took a sip of her coffee, dodging the comment. She had done horrible, terrible things in her past career as an assassin, and she figured she probably deserved _worse _than getting frozen for a couple decades.

Just then, Peggy's son came in from another room, and Peggy stopped him. "Steven, could you set the table, please. Your father and sister will be home soon."

Her son nodded, heading for the kitchen, leaving Natasha and Peggy alone again. Natasha looked up at Peggy through her lashes, giving her a knowing smile. When Peggy met her gaze, her expression softened, saddening a bit around the edges, and Natasha guessed she hadn't hid her emotions as well as she thought. She tried to conceal the bittersweet edge to her smile, but clearly it wasn't working.

"Steven?" Natasha whispered.

"Yes," Peggy nodded, turning her gaze towards her son who was humming off-tune as he set plates out on the table. Natasha noticed he set out an extra one for her. "I'm sorry; I know it must be hard for you—"

"Don't be sorry," Natasha said firmly. "I love it. He seems wonderful. He looks like you."

Peggy gave a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "You haven't seen his father yet. He may have my hair and eyes, but he is completely his father's son."

"Does your daughter take after you, then?" Natasha asked with a smile, Peggy's obvious happiness and affection for her family contagious.

"Mm, much more so, yes," Peggy answered. "Her name is Carolyn. She's sixteen. Steven is eighteen. He'll be heading off to college in the fall."

"And your husband? I'm guessing it's not Peggy _Carter _anymore?"

"Actually, it's still Carter," Peggy said. "Otherwise it would be Anderson. My husband's name is Richard. I met him not long after you, um, well, disappeared."

"I would love to meet him," Natasha said. "Your daughter, as well."

"Well, I know they would love to meet you as well. Will you stay for dinner?"

Natasha opened her mouth, when the front door burst open, and a man with dark hair, striped with gray, walked in beside a teenage girl with similarly dark hair, the two of them laughing. The girl was wearing what looked to be a softball uniform, the man a business suit. The girl, who Natasha assumed was Carolyn, went over to her brother. The man though—surely Richard Anderson—stopped when he saw Natasha, sitting casually on the couch beside his wife. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, followed by confusion.

Natasha vaguely recalled seeing his face once, maybe twice, on the SSR base back in the 40s. So he had been a soldier, back when Natasha had first come back on base, looking the exact same as she did now.

"Richard, this is Natasha," Peggy said, standing up as her husband came near.

"Yes," he said distantly, holding out a hand. Natasha shook it. "I remember you, Natasha. Clearly I'm missing something here, but never mind that. I was just about to get dinner ready. Will you stay?"

Richard and Peggy both looked at her expectantly, and Natasha couldn't say no.

"Of course."

-:-

After dinner, when Peggy and Natasha had some time alone again, they talked more. About Steve, about Natasha's disappearance and assumed death, about Hydra. And when the mood became almost too heavy to bear, they moved on to talking about Peggy's family. Steven wanted to be a doctor. Carolyn wanted to be a teacher. Peggy's face lit up as she spoke of her husband and two children, and it made Natasha feel better, made her almost forget the whole situation she was in. Almost made her forget that the last time she had seen Peggy was over twenty years ago, not two days ago.

Peggy filled her in on some things that had happened over the years. SHIELD had been thriving, for one, getting even better at acquiring intelligence and helping to protect the world form threats that were weirder than normal. The U.S was currently involved in a war in Vietnam. Peggy listed off the presidents. Some guy named Lyndon Johnson was currently president. The one before him, Kennedy, had been assassinated. Shot. Peggy told her that SHIELD had recovered some fuzzy images of the assassin, showing a man clad in black. "He was wearing all black, except for something white…or maybe silver on his arm…We never found him." Peggy had said, shrugging it off, with a saddened look on her face. To Peggy, it was nothing. The tragic fall of a young president. Killed by someone who they couldn't find. But Natasha knew. _She knew. _And it took everything in her to keep her composure, to reveal that she knew _exactly _who had killed him.

When Peggy invited Natasha to stay for the night, she didn't refuse. But the minute she was sure Peggy and her family were asleep, she stepped from her makeshift bed. She wrote a quick note to Peggy, saying that she was sorry, but she had to go, and that she wished Peggy all the happiness in the world. Then, silently, Natasha stepped out of their house. She held her breath, for the fear that if she inhaled, breathed in the scent of Peggy's home, she would stay behind, tuck herself back in, and join them for breakfast the next morning.

That was the very last thing she would allow herself to do though. She would not put this beautiful life Peggy had built in danger by staying there any longer than necessary. She had told Howard she would see him again, told Peggy that she would stay the night, even though, at the time of both promises, she knew they were ones she could not keep. She would not be visiting either of them. She no longer fit into their worlds and she would not endanger them, would not lead Hydra or anyone else who had it out for her to them. Steve was already gone; she wouldn't lose anyone else.

So, she started up the car Howard had given her. She had no clue where she was going. Maybe back to New York. Maybe Chicago. It didn't matter. She was quick to adjust to any situation around her, and this was no different. Within a month she would have this new life, this new time period, figured out. And no one was looking for a girl they thought was dead, so disappearing would be no problem. She'd done it before. She could do it again.

**-:-**

** All right, so that is, in a way, the end to part one! The next chapters (not sure how many yet) will all be set during the 40s. So they'll all be flashbacks. After this next part will come the modern stuff: when Steve wakes up in the ice, the events of Avengers, etc.**

** As for the next chapter, I won't be posting for two weeks. I've been a little busier with classes and homework the past couple weeks, so I've fallen a little behind on my writing, and need an extra week before I start posting again. **

** Once again, the support on the story has been amazing! I'm really glad that you're all liking it so much. Keep letting me know what you think! The reviews are very much appreciated!**

** Thanks for reading!**

** -DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	8. Mission 1 Status: Failure

**Hello, everybody! **

**So, first, thank you for your patience while I get caught up on my writing. Second, thank you all for the support on the story! I know I say this just about every time, but it really means so much to me, so thank you :)**

**And just a note, starting with this chapter, it will be all flashbacks to the 40s events. I don't know yet how many chapters this is going to be yet, but probably quite a few.**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_Hydra Base just over German/Poland border; Early January, 1944_

_ Steve split the howling Commandos up into groups, sending in a team through every possible exit of the low brick building that was housing weapons about to be shipped off to larger Hydra facilities. Their mission was to find the man in charge here—some guy named Abel—and question him to find out where the weapons shipments were headed. He couldn't help but think how similar the debriefing was to when, weeks ago now, they had raided the Black Widow facility. The only thing different was the Black Widow herself. As he laid out the plan for everyone, Natasha listened intently, nodding every so often._

_ "Good strategy," she told him later, after the other Commandos had moved into position and he was left with her and Bucky. _

_ Steve was about to respond when Bucky moved over to his side, giving Natasha a look, mouth turned down. Steve sighed internally, wishing Bucky would make a better effort to conceal his dislike for Natasha. Not that she seemed to mind, or care. He saw her meet Bucky's distasteful look and then turned away to check her pistols, her features not faltering an inch._

_ "You know, you could at least act like you don't hate her," Steve muttered once Natasha was out of earshot. "What happened to you trying to be polite?"_

_ "Tried it. Didn't suit me," Bucky retorted._

_ "You're unbelievable." Steve rolled his eyes._

_ "Hey, I'm not the one who brought an _assassin _onto the team."_

_Steve clenched his jaw. Yes, Natasha was an assassin. The best assassin. It didn't mean she was incapable of change, though. Steve understood why people were wary of her, but the way he saw it, she'd had plenty of chances to kill him or escape and she had done neither. The other Howling Commandos were giving her a chance, Steve just wished Bucky would too._

_ "Look," Steve said, turning back to his best friend. "This is her first mission with us. Let's see how it goes. Just maybe wait till after to decide how you want to judge her from here on out, okay?"_

_ Bucky was silent for a moment, catching on easily to the irritation in Steve's tone. Finally, Bucky exhaled, then nodded. "Fine. If you agree to be careful with her. I get that you're choosing to trust her, but don't extend that trust too far, Steve. People like her don't just flip sides this easily—even temporarily—so don't get your hopes up too much."_

_ Steve nodded slowly. "Fine. We ready to go then?"_

_ "Yeah," Bucky agreed._

_ "Natasha—" Steve started to say, but when he turned around, she was gone. "Dammit."_

_ "Is it too early to say I told you so?" Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows._

_ Steve didn't bother to answer him before taking off down the short road to the building, Bucky on his heels. When they entered, Steve barely had time to register the sound of distant gunfire, somewhere else in the facility, when a dozen Hydra agents came at them. Steve threw his shield and it struck one square in the chest, ricocheted, and took another out. He grabbed his shield and went for two more who moved towards him. He heard the chatter of Bucky's sub-machine gun and the echoing call of bodies dropping heavily to the floor. A few moments later, they were surrounded by a dozen dead or unconscious bodies._

_ Wordlessly, Steve started making his way further into the building. Noises resonated from further off in the facility. They encountered a few more Hydra goons on their way, who were easily shot down. Steve was beginning to think that Natasha had simply gotten impatient and joined up with the other Commandos when he heard a strangled cry a hundred feet in front of them. Steve and Bucky ran down the length of the hall that ended in a single door. Steve was about to reach out and twist the knob when the door burst open and Natasha stepped out._

_ She looked unscathed. At ease, actually. Natasha shoved a piece of paper at his chest, which he grabbed without taking her eyes off her face. "A list of all the Hydra facilities they were going to ship weapons to," she announced. "You're welcome."_

_ Steve stared at her, stunned, about to ask her how she'd managed that so easily, when he caught sight of the blood on her hands._

_ "Is that…is that _your _blood?" _

_ "Nope. I'm fine. Can't say the same for the other guy, though," she said nonchalantly, like the fact that having another man's blood on her hands was no big deal. And Steve realized that it wasn't, not to her. Realization struck him hard, and she must've seen it on his face, because, though she kept her face passive, her body tightened, like she was preparing to run._

_ "Natasha," he said lowly. "What did you do?"_

_ She met his gaze steadily, tilting her chin up, one eyebrow quirking up the tiniest bit. "I got what we needed." She shoved past him. "I'll go find the others," she called over her shoulder. Then she rounded the corner and disappeared. _

_ "Steve, in here," Bucky called out._

_ Steve watched the spot where Natasha had disappeared a moment longer. He tucked the piece of paper she'd handed him into his belt, then turned and headed into the room Natasha had come from. He lifted his shield over his shoulder and secured it to his back as he stepped through the doorframe. Bucky was standing next to their man, Abel. The Hydra agent was strapped to a chair, his ankles and wrists bound with black cord. A gash in his hairline had streaked his face with blood, and Steve would have thought he was dead, but his eyes were open and wide. As Steve stepped closer to Abel and a grim looking Bucky, Steve noticed that the man's fingers were bent at odd, unnatural angles. She'd broken his fingers. _

_ Something twisted inside of Steve. He clenched his jaw. He took deliberate steps over to the Hydra man, helping Bucky untie the man. He refused to look at his best friend because he knew what he would see behind Bucky's eyes, knew what Bucky was thinking, because it was the same thing he was thinking. Hydra or not, this guy didn't deserve this, not for answers that could have been obtained a lot easier. Red Skull, maybe. But not someone this low on the food chain, doing nothing more than taking orders. Steve couldn't say he didn't want Hydra gone, because he did. They had taken Bucky, had experimented on him, tested on him. And though Bucky was now safe, Steve knew Red Skull would not stop, not until he and everyone else who stood in his way was reduced to a pile of ash at his feet. _

_ So, yes, Steve wanted to stop Hydra. But not like this. He knew when he took Natasha on that she was capable of such things. He wasn't an idiot; he'd known with complete and utter certainty that this is _exactly _what she was trained for, what she was built for. What she was made into. A torturer. A killer. A black widow. His only hope had been that, when she'd agreed to stick around long enough to let him give her a second chance, she would try a little harder to leave behind the past he'd taken her from._

_ It seemed, though, that old habits were hard to break._

_ Steve sighed as they finished untying Abel and handcuffing him. Tortured already or not, Colonel Phillips would have questions for him. With no more words than necessary, Steve told Bucky to take Abel back to the trucks. Steve went in the opposite direction in search of the Howling Commandos. When he found them they were surrounded by a couple dozen downed Hydra soldiers._

_ "Hey, Cap!" Dum Dum Dugan greeted jovially. Natasha stood beside Dugan, her gaze locked on Steve's as Dugan clapped her on the shoulder. "You know, I had my doubts about her, but you should've seen her, Cap! A couple of these Hydra filth had Jones pinned down in the corner and this one here swoops in like a goddamn avenging angel!"_

_ Natasha's eye lit up in amusement as Dugan called her an avenging angel. She continued to keep her eyes on Steve, and he met her gaze equally as he listened to Dugan._

_ "Anyway," Dugan continued, his face lit up with a huge grin as he adjusted his bowler hat on his head. "Like I said, you should've seen her. She took down three of 'em before the fourth could even lift his gun."_

_ Jones, who had come up while Dum Dum had been speaking, nodded in agreement. "It's true, Cap. Don't know if I would've have been able to take all of them if it hadn't been for Romanoff here. It's like I blinked and they were all dead."_

_ "Glad to hear it," Steve said, trying to keep his tone cordial. "We got what we needed, so let's head out."_

_ Steve fell back as the other Commandos headed towards the entrance. Just as Natasha was about to follow, Steve grabbed her arm and held tight, walking them out together. She didn't say anything. Didn't even tense up at his tight grip. He realized that she was completely and utterly calm. The fact that she just tortured a man and then went and killed a dozen more meant nothing to her. It was just another job, another mission. She'd completed it, wiped the blood off her hands, and then went about as if nothing had happened. _

_ And the dead Hydra soldiers wouldn't have been a big deal—they'd all taken a few out that day—but the fact that she tortured one of them…well, Phillips had said to report every detail of the mission, and Steve couldn't exactly leave this out. Not only would Natasha probably get sent back to Russia,, Steve would get the shorter end of the stick when it came to the Colonel's wrath. _

_ -:-_

_ The whole ride back, Steve kept a tight grip on Natasha. The others had seen Abel in the truck when they'd loaded up, and even though there was no doubt that it had been Natasha, the Commandos still had some level of uncertainty in their eyes. And Steve could understand. From what Dugan and Jones had said, it sounded like she'd saved Jones, at least, and perhaps a few of the others while she was at it. And Steve couldn't deny that he was grateful for that. Though he'd only been working with the Commandos a short time, he'd grown fond of them, and he wouldn't want to see any of them get hurt. Or worse. What Natasha had done would have meant a lot more to him if she hadn't tortured a guy first. _

_ When they got back on base, Steve went straight to Phillips to give his report—leaving Bucky outside to guard Natasha, which neither of them looked happy about—and hand Phillips the list of Hydra bases that were supposed to have gotten weapons shipments. After he was done, the Colonel was silent for a long time. Steve waited for his temper to explode, to get the chewing out of a lifetime about how Steve was supposed to keep an eye on her, and how she had been a risk from the beginning, and so on and so forth. _

_ Instead, Phillips heaved a deep sigh, rubbing the list of Hydra bases in between his fingers. For a few minutes more, though, the Colonel looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. _

_ "Sir?" Steve prompted._

_ "Look…" Colonel Phillips started slowly. "I don't agree with her methods. We do not condone torture—_ever. _But there are a lot of things that weren't condoned before this damn war started, and, well…sometimes the rules need to temporarily change to get results, Rogers. There's no doubt she needs to be punished for this behavior. I think two days in solitary should suffice. But I won't send her back to Russia. Not yet, at least. This will be her warning."_

_ Steve blinked, letting Phillips' words sink in. The Colonel, who had been so adamant about _not _letting her join, who had been damn near rushing to send her back to her country, was now giving her the benefit of the doubt. "So…you're…you're not going to send her back? You're just going to lock her up for a few days? That's it?"_

_ Steve wasn't sure if he was angry or not. Honestly everything about Natasha confused him. He couldn't get a read on her at all, but she seemed to be able to look at him and stare right into his soul and his mind and see everything that he was feeling and thinking and it drove him crazy. He didn't agree with Natasha torturing Abel, but he also didn't want to ship her off either. He actually agreed with Colonel Phillips completely, he just wasn't sure he wanted to voice that. _

_ "Look, Rogers, you told me what Jones and Dugan said," Colonel Phillips spoke. "Her torture methods were unorthodox, yes. But she'd good. I'm not going to deny that fact. I think she'll be a good addition to your team. Especially if it means that she can help you take down this Hydra threat. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can end this war for good."_

_ Steve pondered that a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir."_

_ "Good. You can escort her to solitary. Then I want a written report of the events that occurred today from each of you. On my desk by tomorrow morning."_

_ "Yes, sir," Steve said again, before taking his leave. _

_-:-_

_1 day later…_

_ Steve had barely taken a step into the room before Natasha spoke._

_ "You know, I thought solitary meant that I'm supposed to be _alone,_" she pointed out lazily. _

_She was laying on her cot, hands folded across her stomach and eyes glued to the ceiling. Steve moved in a chair from outside without saying anything. Natasha sat up slowly, pushing her bright red hair back from her face. It was such a mundane thing to do, that Steve was almost startled. She was always calm and collected, poised and deliberate in everything she did. He was starting to realize that she never did anything by accident, even something that could get her in trouble, like this. _

_Steve watched her, not sure what to say. Part of him wanted to apologize for the way he'd acted towards her, though it was completely justified. Part of him wanted to yell at her like Colonel Phillips didn't. But instead he sat silently._

"_Rethinking your decision to save me, Captain?" she asked. Steve was surprised how serious she looked as she asked him. There was no teasing head tilt, to smirk. She honestly wanted to know his answer._

"_No," he replied, meeting her eyes, his voice just as honest as her question._

_The mask she always seemed to wear flickered for a moment, the calm and cool exterior fracturing into a look of shock and disbelief—and maybe a little sadness, too—before she collected herself once again. Her green eyes searched his face, as if trying to find a different answer in his features than the one he'd given her. _

"_Maybe you should," Natasha said flatly. "Rethink your decision to save me, that is. I'm not worth saving, anyway."_

_Steve shook his head, leaning forward in his chair. "I don't believe that."_

_He saw her jaw clench, her eyes flashing defiantly. She sat up straighter, her body tightening and fists clenching like she was gearing up for a fight. But when she spoke, her voice was hollow._

"_What you saw yesterday, that was nothing," she said, a little venom easing its way into her voice despite the emptiness in her eyes. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Captain. And if you knew, if you could see me at my worst…you'd be _begging_ to have me sent back to Russia. Hell, you'd probably try to kill me yourself. The Black Widow program did not turn me into a killer," she paused, then leaned forward as well, so they were only a foot apart. _

"_They turned me into a monster," she whispered. _

"_If you're such a monster, why agree to repay your debt in the first place? Why agree to any of this?" Steve asked._

"_I didn't do this to repay my debt," she replied. "I didn't do it for you, or the U.S. or to stop Hydra. I did it to escape. I shouldn't be _alive, _much less around good people like yourself." She admitted._

"_Well, I didn't give you this second chance for my own selfish reasons," Steve agreed. "I don't care about you repaying some life debt. I offered you the deal because I thought you deserved a second chance. I did this for _you. _Not for any other reason. You accepting the deal isn't selfish if I offered you the chance to _be_ selfish."_

"_Why, though?" she demanded angrily. "You don't know a damn thing about me! Why the hell would you care if I lived or died?"_

"_Because," Steve said as he stood. "Like I said before, I still think you're worth saving."_

**-:-**

**So there is chapter 8! Hope you all enjoyed!**

**I would love it if you took a moment to review, let me know what you think, what you think is going to happen, anything! **

**Also, side note, for those of you who have been watching Agent Carter (everybody should watch though, because it is seriously amazing!) there are details from Agent Carter I would like to incorporate into this story. There are some things (like Leviathan and the bigger plots like that) that I won't include, just because that would call for quite a bit of rewriting on the earlier chapters. But, there are some things I might include. I would like to incorporate more of the Commandos, now that we've met a few more, as well as some of the Red Room stuff they introduced. But I'll see how much actually gets included into the story.**

**Thank you all, once again, for the support! You guys are amazing!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	9. Trying Harder

**Hey, everybody!**

**Thank you all for your responses; you guys are so wonderful!**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_January, 1944_

_Natasha had decided to try harder. _

_She hadn't decided much since arriving at the SSR base. Well, _arriving_ wasn't the right word. She hadn't exactly had a choice. Which, thinking about it, wasn't exactly, completely true either. She could've escaped at any time while Captain America and his fellow Commandos brought her to the base weeks ago. So she supposed choosing not to escape had been her first decision. Accepting the Captain's offer to repay the debt she owed him was her second. Changing her name (which she'd fallen right into the familiarity of like it was the name she'd been born with) was her third decision._

_Behaving was her latest, decent, decision._

_Not that she hadn't made decent decisions before coming here. She just hadn't had to think about making the _moral _or _right _or _honorable _decision. She'd been trained to take out a target. Not to ask questions or, for that matter, even question the morality of shooting someone in the head. She'd been given orders and she followed them._

_Lately she hadn't had to do that. At least not to the same extent. And she found it harder to break out of the habit than she would have thought. Being raised pretty much her whole life in the Red Room, where any sign of weakness meant unbearable, cruel punishments—or worse—she wasn't used to…well, acting like a normal human being. She was used to the feeling of blood under her fingernails, of bruises that lasted for weeks, of being chained up at night like an animal. Even soldiers, like the ones she was now surrounded by, felt remorse for the lives they took. That had been beaten out of her at such a young age… So, Natasha felt nothing. She could remember the faces of her victims, and thus far, they had not haunted her one bit. _

_So, when the Captain had given her that _look_…when he'd realized what she'd done at the Hydra facility, torturing that man, it was quite a shock when she felt the tiniest hint of regret worming its way around her stomach. Looking back, she couldn't say she felt incredibly guilty about it, since they'd gotten the answers they needed, and she hadn't done nearly enough damage to kill the man. But there was a small part of her—miniscule, actually—that wished she hadn't done it._

_She hated that part of herself. _

_And now she'd decided that she was going to make a better effort to cut back on her old methods. She was out of the Red Room. It was gone and she never had to go back. There were no more handcuffs to hold her down anymore…it was time to let Natalia Romanova go and start living up to her new name. And she wasn't necessarily doing this out of the goodness of her heart (she wasn't even sure how much goodness there _was _in her heart), or because it was the right thing to do….no, it was because damn _Captain America _had basically said that, despite everything, she deserved a second chance. She deserved to be saved. And that small part of her that she hated, had broken down under those words, made her want to do better. If even for just the short time that she was here. _

_Because the second she fulfilled this damn debt, she was going to disappear. She'd probably change her name again, become someone new. Do whatever the hell she wanted and never have to look at Rogers again. God, was he naïve. And trusting. Completely out of place in the war he had landed himself in, where bad people did bad things and felt nothing but satisfaction afterwards. It was actually infuriating, how absolutely…_good _he was. She hadn't decided if she liked his unwaveringly loyal best friend yet, but at least Barnes knew how fucked up the world they were living in was. Instead, even in the middle of a warzone where men were falling around his feet, choking on their own blood, Rogers only saw the best in everything and everyone. He'd managed to find something good inside of her and damn if that didn't annoy the hell out of her._

_Natasha exhaled slowly as she laced up her boots, tucking the bottoms of her pants into them. Barnes had just left, addressing her shortly in one sentence, letting her know there was a mission briefing in ten. Shed had a couple missions since that first unfortunate one, and Barnes still hadn't seemed to have given her one inch of trust. She couldn't really blame him, though. She didn't trust him either. Rogers…there were times he would look at her and his gaze was hard, disapproving. But for the most part he'd miraculously decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And she'd been behaving on the last few missions, only doing what was necessary to stop any Hydra soldiers that came her way. _

"_Knock, knock," a voice sounded gently from the doorway, and Natasha looked up to see Peggy Carter standing there. Carter stepped a little farther into the room, smiling politely. "Just wanted to see if there was anything you needed before the mission debrief."_

"_I'm good, thank you," Natasha responded as she stood. "Did the Colonel send you? Or was it Rogers?"_

_Peggy kept her gaze level with Natasha's. "Nobody sent me, Natasha. I don't know yet if I can call myself your friend, but I would like to think of myself as your ally. You don't seem to have too many around here, and I think you need as many as you can get. Especially after that first mission of yours."_

"_Mm," Natasha nodded. "Right. That mission. Where I tortured somebody. Yeah, I don't think that allying yourself with me is going to make anyone forget that. About the only thing it will do is ruin your reputation."_

"_I doesn't really matter what anyone thinks of me," Peggy said. "No matter what I do it will still be questioned because I am a woman. Just like you. Hence, all the attention you're suddenly getting."_

"_Attention, yes," Natasha agreed. "It's not like I get to sit at the popular table now, though."_

"_No." Peggy pursed her lips. "But I think everyone is making quite a big deal out of it. It's not like they didn't know what you did before coming here. And I'm not going to presume to know anything about your past or what you went through, but from what I've gathered, it sounds like you didn't have much of a choice—then _and _now. And before, it seems like it was life or death. And the fact that you chose life—even surrounded by so much death—tells me one thing."_

"_Yeah? And what's that?" Natasha asked skeptically._

"_That you're a survivor," Peggy replied earnestly. "I think you and Steve share that quality. So you might be stuck here a while if saving his life is what's going to set you free. He doesn't often need saving."_

"_Everyone needs to be saved from something." Natasha told Peggy quietly. "Whether it's from a bullet or themselves or something in between. I might lie about a lot of things, but I was not lying when I said that I would fulfill my debt to him. I'm going to save him. Only seems fair, since he's so hell bent on saving me. Even if I'm too far gone."_

"_Mm," Peggy hummed in disagreement. "He must not think you're so far gone that you can't be saved. Otherwise he wouldn't be wasting his time."_

_Natasha didn't know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut._

"_If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask, Natasha." Peggy smiled, and then disappeared out the door. _

_-:-_

_The mission briefing made it seem simple enough. A small band of Hydra members had holed up in an abandoned, and mostly destroyed town nearby, and all they had to do was eliminate them, to keep them from joining up with Red Skull's larger force. But now Steve and his Howling Commandos were far outnumbered against a horde of Hydra numbers, so clearly the mission was not the piece of cake everyone assumed it would be. _

"_Everybody get down!" Dugan yelled out as he pulled the pin from a grenade and pitched it towards half a dozen Hydra soldiers heading their way._

_Steve ducked behind a wall with Bucky and Jim Morita, Junior Juniper and Pinky Pinkerton joining them just as the grenade exploded, the screams of dying Hydra members accompanied by the noise of debris raining down. They waited a few seconds before heading back around the corner and heading back into the fight. Steve wielded his shield as another dozen Hydra soldiers appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He heard the chatter of Bucky's submachine gun, and Dugan shouting insults and profanity at the enemy. Just when it seemed like they'd gotten the upper hand, and explosion went off on the other side of the street, where the rest of the Commandos and Natasha were. _

"_You got this?" Steve shouted to Bucky and Dugan over the commotion._

"_Oh, no worries, Cap," Dugan tilted his bowler's hat. "We'll be just fine here. You go help the others."_

_Steve nodded and headed out the back way, taking a few Hydra members down as he exited the building and crossed the street. The building the others were in could hardly be called a building anymore, considering how riddled with holes it was and how many chunks of wall and roof were missing. And now, along with the old damage, there was fresh smoke—a thick, black cloud of it—rolling into the sky, flames licking out of gaps in the building's structure. As he approached, the sound of gunfire rang in his ears and it gave him hope that the rest of his team was still putting up a fight._

_He bared his shield as he entered the building, heading towards the sound of combat. He could tell he was getting closer when the Hydra members started coming at him. He flung his shield expertly, taking down a few guys at a time as he made his way towards his team. When he found the five of them—Jones, Dernier, Falsworth, Happy Sam Sawyer, and Natasha—they were up against almost two dozen Hydra soldiers. Steve broke his way into the melee, bowling through a couple guys with just the force of his body. At the sight of him—clad in his red, white, and blue—his fellow Commandos smiled and started firing back with renewed vigor. Natasha looked over at him and gave him a quick nod, before she set back to firing her twin set of guns. _

_Just as the Hydra numbers dwindled, more came. As the fighting continued, Jones and the others ended up on the other side of the room, making a stand against the entrance the Hydra members seemed to be coming from. Steve found himself side by side with Natasha. _

"_So, there were a few more Hydra members here than you thought, huh?" Natasha commented slightly breathlessly. _

"_Ah, just a few," Steve replied. "Nothing we can't handle, right?"_

_As he threw his shield again, he almost missed the small smile that Natasha gave him. Another wave of Hydra soldiers flooded in through one of the large holes in the wall behind him and Natasha. Steve barely had time to warn the others of the incoming enemies before the Hydra soldiers started firing. About the only advantage they had was the fact that these Hydra soldiers didn't have the upgraded weapons that most of Red Skull's armies had been given. It was regular bullets being fired at them instead of Tesseract energy beams. _

"_You think someone told Hydra we were coming?" Steve asked Natasha as she stood shoulder to shoulder with him._

"_Either that or they guessed we were going to come anyway, and decided to make it a little harder for us," she responded. _

_It seemed as if the Hydra agents had stopped coming, but there were still plenty left, firing magazine after magazine at them. The other Commandos were holding their own on the other side of the room, but that was because most of the Hydra soldiers had decided to go up against him and Natasha. Natasha had run out of bullets and was going after Hydra soldiers using her assassin training, armed with nothing more than her body and a small knife that shone ruby red with blood. As Steve caught his shield in his hand, he spun and caught sight of Natasha. She was fighting off two Hydra soldiers in front of her and she didn't notice the one coming up behind her. _

"_Natasha, down!" Steve shouted._

_She heard him and used her body to bring one of the Hydra agents she was battling down with her. But she wasn't quite fast enough, the other Hydra soldier in front hindering her movement. The Hydra soldier that had been creeping up behind her had managed to get a few rounds out of his gun before Steve could fight of his own adversaries long enough to take the guy out. He heard Natasha cry out shortly in pain, before stabbing the Hydra agent she'd wrestled to the ground in the neck, blood spurting out over her hand. _

"_Natasha?" Steve shouted her name, worried._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grit her teeth and stand, taking out the other Hydra soldier as she did so. The fight was dying down and Steve saw her take a second to press a hand to the wound on her thigh, which is where she must've gotten hit. Not long after, all the Hydra soldiers were down. Steve headed over to Natasha, wiping the back of his gloved hand across his dirt streaked face. _

"_You all right?" he asked, reaching out a hand to help her if need-be._

_But she was stubborn. She looked at his hand, but didn't move any closer to him to accept the support. "I'm fine," she muttered. "I've had worse."_

_Steve clenched his jaw but didn't say anything. Jones, Falsworth, Happy Sam, and Dernier made their way over to the two of them. It looked like Jones had gotten clipped by a bullet, his upper part of his left sleeve soaked with blood, and Happy Sam looked like he had a dislocated shoulder. Dernier was streaked with dirt and scratches, Falsworth in similar state except he had a large gash on his temple, blood running down the side of his face. _

"_You guys okay?" Steve asked his Commandos._

"_Just fine, Cap." Jones smiled. "We killed a whole lot of Hydra today, so I, personally, couldn't be in a better mood."_

_Falsworth laughed and nodded in agreement. "I'm sure Red Skull guess we were coming here and decided to keep us a little more occupied. Guess he underestimated us."_

_Steve smiled, allowing himself to feel victorious for a moment. "Let's go regroup with the others."_

_The other Commandos chattered excitedly with each other as they made their way out through one of the holes in the building and back across the street to where the rest of their team was. Steve fell back and walked with Natasha, who was limping. Her hand was pressed to the wound on her left thigh. From what he could tell, it was on the outside of her leg, nothing that couldn't be made better with some bandages and a shot or two of whiskey. And even though she didn't want his help—nor did she really seem to need it—he put a hand low on her back to steady her. Steve felt her tense up for just a moment, but then she seemed to relax. And considering she didn't shove him off or threaten to break his fingers for touching her, he figured it was all right._

_When they rejoined the other Howling Commandos, they were greeted with grins of victory and Hydra bodies littering the ground. Dugan, Bucky, Juniper, and Pinky looked a little banged up and dirty, but otherwise fine. Morita was putting pressure on a bullet wound to his shoulder. They were all a little bruised and battered, but it was dozens of Hydra soldiers lying dead on the ground, not them. Bucky came up to Steve first, but when he spotted Natasha, bloody and holding her injured leg, Steve swore there was a flash of concern in his best friend's eyes. _

"_Pinky, Dernier, help Natasha back to the trucks," Steve ordered. Natasha didn't look too happy about getting helped to go anywhere, but she didn't protest. "Gabe, Happy Sam, Morita, you guys head back to the truck, too. The rest of us are going to do one last sweep, see if we can find anything."_

"_Aye, aye, Captain," Pinky consented before stepping forward with Dernier to give Natasha a hand. _

_Steve took the others and finished their sweep, before heading back to their trucks. Dernier had been standing guard and nodded at them as they approached. Dugan hopped in the driver's seat as the rest of them piled in. Steve found himself in the back of the truck, seated in between Natasha and Bucky. As they headed back to base, the sound of the engines, combined with the noise from the rough road they were driving on, Steve almost missed the quiet thank you Natasha whispered to him._

**-:-**

**All right, so we got to see some more of Peggy :) She'll show up again some more in upcoming chapters. Next chapter takes place right after this one (will be posted in a week), and we'll get to see Steve and Nat interact some more, as well as a Steve and Peggy moment, and more of Bucky and Nat interacting! **

**Take a second and leave a review, let me know what you think! The feedback has been absolutely wonderful so far, so keep it up!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


	10. Trying Harder (Pt2)

**Hello all!**

**Hope everyone has had a nice week :) The feedback on this story always makes my weeks better, so thank you so much! And if your weeks have not been going well, I hope I can make them a little better with this update :)**

**Just as a reminder, this chapter picks up right after the previous one.**

**I don't own Captain America.**

**Enjoy!**

**-:-**

_Natasha gritted her teeth as the nurse working on her finally managed to get a hold of the bullet in her leg and pull it out, dropping it with a metallic clank onto a tray. A few minutes later, just as the nurse was taping the bandage off, Rogers appeared in the doorway. _

"_Try and stay off this leg as much as you can for the next couple of days, Ms. Romanoff," the nurse recommended politely._

_Natasha nodded, not sure how well she could follow the nurse's directions. Sitting around doing nothing wasn't exactly her forte. The nurse gave her a smile and then headed for the door, giving the Captain a polite nod as she headed out. _

"_How are you feeling?" Rogers asked once they were alone._

"_Like I said earlier, I've had worse," she told him as he pulled a chair up in front of the hospital bed she was on. "Trust me, this is nothing."_

_ He looked like he didn't believe her, but that's because he didn't know all that she'd had to go through to earn the status of assassin, much less status of Black Widow. She'd been shot before, and from all her experiences, they were mild compared to some. They were quick. Sure, they hurt like hell as the bullet burned through flesh and sometimes bone. And they hurt afterwards too, but a few stiches and some bandages patched that up just fine. She'd suffered through pain that lasted for days. _

_ If only Rogers could see the scars that mapped her body. If only he could see farther in and look at all the bones that had been broken and re-broken. See the scars that went deeper than flesh and bone. Scars that twisted their way through her subconscious, the kind of scars that made her wake up at night covered in her own sweat as the remnants of her nightmares danced behind her eyes. _

_ If he could see all of that, maybe then he would understand that she meant it when she said a bullet wound was nothing more than a scratch to her. _

_ "Well, I talked to the Colonel," Rogers started. "The next mission will take a few days, if not a week, to put together. Shouldn't be too hard to get that bed rest you need."_

_ "Right," she scoffed. "It won't take as much as a mission to make me want out of bed. I'll get bored long before then."_

_ "Guess I'll just have to keep an eye on you, then." He gave her a small smile._

_ "Good luck with that," she retorted. _

_ He cast his eyes down then, his hands fidgeting. He had changed out of his uniform and was now wearing a tan button-down and dark brown trousers. He wasn't even wearing a tie. Natasha supposed this was about as casual as he got. _

_ "Okay," she sighed. "You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? And I swear to God, if it's about me getting shot—"_

_ "It's not," he interrupted her. "It's…um…I actually wanted to apologize."_

_ She looked at him, confused. Natasha prided herself on being able to read people, to know what they were thinking. She excelled at interrogation during her Red Room training, and to do so, she had needed to learn exactly how people ticked, all in a matter of minutes, if not seconds. But Rogers…well, he threw her completely off. Sure, she had picked up that he wasn't a very good liar—terrible, actually—and he wore his heart on his sleeve, but he also managed to take her by surprise, _all the damn time. _He could say one thing and she would get completely knocked off her feet, her opinion of him changing by the second. _

_ "Apologize for what?" she asked, trying not to show how surprised she was. _

_ "For judging you so harshly after that first mission," he said with barely a pause. "In all the years this war had been going on now…well, the Allies have had their fair share of questionable acts. We've all made decisions that were questionable, done things that were questionable. What you did…it's not like it hasn't been done before. You took me by surprise, is all. And I think that got us off on the wrong foot. I would like to change that."_

_ He looked up at her from under her lashes, and Natasha was so stunned by his apology, that she had to sit there for a moment. She couldn't think of a time that anyone had actually cared about her this much, cared about _starting off on the wrong foot. _Hell, she couldn't think of a time that someone had actually _apologized _to her. Sincerely, at least. Any apology thrown her way while in the Red Room had been a mocking 'sorry' after she'd been beaten to the ground or thrown into a wall or had a bone snap in a sparring match. _

_ "I—" Natasha broke off, not even sure where to begin. She'd never been rendered speechless by anyone either. "I should be the one apologizing, Rogers, not you. You…you shouldn't have to do that. You had _every _right to judge me for what I did. If anyone made a bad first impression, it was me. And for that matter, a bad second impression as well."_

_ "Right," he smiled. "I almost forgot that the first impression I got of you was when you were trying to kill me in a building that was about to explode."_

_ Natasha could only offer him half a smile. "Yeah, you probably should have just let that bomb take me out. Or have sent me back to Russia, at the very least. I should not be _here, _that's for sure. Would've saved yourself a whole lot of trouble if you hadn't decided to give a shit about me."_

_ "Well, where's the fun in that?" he joked, but Natasha was being serious._

_ "I mean it, Rogers," she said shortly. "I get that you're trying to give me a second chance here, but maybe you shouldn't be. I'm a killer, okay? I didn't need to torture that guy. I easily could have gotten answers from Abel using less extreme measures. I was…I don't know. Trying to prove a point. It frustrated me so much that you didn't seem to understand what I was—what I _am—_when you offered me that deal. I was trying to get you to see me for the killer I am when I did that. Clearly it didn't work."_

_ "I don't give up easily," he insisted. _

_ "I can tell," she muttered._

_ "You're the one who agreed to stick around," Rogers pointed out. "The least you can do—_both of us _can do—is make it a little easier. I know you're not the trusting type, but I'm willing to put my trust in you if you try and do the same."_

_ Natasha looked at him, then down at her lap. She stared for a moment at the fresh bandages on her leg. Rogers had warned her, in that building, to get down. She'd known the guy was behind her and she'd been preparing to duck anyway, but the fact that he still bothered to call out her name in the heat of battle, to make sure she didn't get seriously injured or killed…along with the apologizing, it wasn't something she was used to. She couldn't say it was a _bad _thing, though. It was nice, to have somebody watching her back. And that's what she was here to do for the Captain. She supposed she could extend a little bit of trust his way in the time that she was here._

_ She met his gaze again. "Can't say I completely trust you. Can't say I ever will. But…while we're working together, know that you can trust _me. _I wouldn't mind getting off on the right foot this time."_

_ "Guess that's all I can really ask for." he gave her half a smile before he stood. "Rest up. I'll stop by later."_

_ "I already have one nurse, Rogers," she quipped. "I don't need another. Though, I'm sure you'd look absolutely adorable in one of their uniforms."_

_ "Ha ha," he muttered. _

_ "I'll be fine," she assured him. "Go do whatever it is Captain America does in his free time."_

_ He gave a little laugh and headed for the door. When he was half-way out of the room, he angled his body to look at her. "Draw."_

_ "What?" she asked._

_ "In my free time," he said. "I like to draw."_

_ When he left, Natasha was left alone, surprised yet again by him._

_-:-_

_ "You're thinking too much again," Peggy said._

_ "Am not," Steve grumbled in response. _

_ "Are too," Peggy argued. "Your forehead creases up when you think. You can continue to argue with me, but you know I'm right, so really there's no point. So? What is it? What are you thinking about?"_

_ Steve exhaled. Of course Peggy was right. She usually was. They'd known each other since the beginning of '43, nearly a year now. During that past year they'd formed a strong friendship. Perhaps even something a little more, but neither of them had acted on it. When Steve worked up the courage to ask her about those feelings—not long before finding Natasha—Peggy had told him that while she maybe loved him at one point—perhaps loved him still, if she was being honest with herself—she wasn't looking for love right now. Steve was comfortable with that. And who knew what the future held? They could change their minds at some point down the line. But right now, instead of anything romantic, he now considered her one of his best friends. Someone he knew would support him through anything, someone he could confide in. And, of course, someone other than Bucky to call him out when he was being stubborn or an idiot or both. _

_ "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" Steve finally asked. "With Natasha, I mean."_

_ "Ah," Peggy said, giving him a look and trying hard not to smile as she sat down beside him in the empty mess hall._

_ "What?" Steve questioned, clueless as usual._

_ "This is about Natasha?" _

_ "Yeah, I guess…" Steve trailed off, scanning Peggy's face, trying to decipher what she was thinking. "I mean…are-are you—?"_

_ "If you're about to ask if I'm jealous," Peggy cut him off. "I would've thought you knew me better than that. Of course I'm not jealous, Steve. In fact, I quite like Natasha. It's nice to have another woman of action around here. I can't quite say she feels the same way about me yet, but I doubt I'm the only one she hasn't quite warmed up to yet."_

_ "Right." Steve bowed his head slightly. "Sorry for implying that you might be jealous."_

_ Peggy laid a hand over his comfortingly. "It's quite all right, Steve. I don't think that's your real concern though. You asked if you thought you were doing the right thing, bringing her on. Well, what do _you _think about it?"_

_ "I don't know," Steve admitted. "That's why I'm asking you."_

_ Peggy smiled, her brown eyes, like dark whiskey, were bright. "Well, in my oh-so professional opinion, I would say just give it time. You saw something in her that urged you to save her from that bomb. And she's stayed this long, so she must see something in you as well. I know that most everyone else around here is questioning your decision, but I personally think you made the right one."_

_ "Thanks," Steve mumbled, giving Peggy half a smile._

_ She leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. She gave his hand a squeeze as she pulled back, her full lips curved into a smile. "See you in the morning, Steve."_

_-:-_

_ Late January, 1944_

_ Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to find some patience within himself. Steve had told him to be nice. Bucky had simply grumbled out an agreement, but he'd made no promises. Not when it came to Natasha Romanoff. Because it seemed like one second, he was fine around her, and the next, she would flash her green eyes at him, a corner of her mouth would quirk up, and any politeness he had in him went out the window. And he ignored the skipping of his heart that happened either way, because it definitely didn't mean anything._

_ He knocked on the door to her room._

_ "Come in," was the responding call._

_ Bucky twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Natasha wasn't even looking up. She pushed her hands through the sleeves of her jacket and stood slowly from her bed. He noticed her grimace just slightly as she put weight on her left leg. It only having been almost a week since she'd been shot, he had no doubts that the wound was still tender and sore. Even professional assassins felt some level of pain after getting shot._

_ "How's the leg?" he asked, trying out the 'nice' thing on her._

_ Natasha looked up at the sound of his voice, a momentary flash of surprise crossing her pretty features. Then the surprise—and even the hint of pain—disappeared and her face returned to its normal, unreadable state. _

_ "Do you really care?" she shot back at him._

_ "Well, now that you ask, no, not really," he retorted._

_ Natasha scoffed, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Of all the people Rogers could have sent to come get me, it had to be _you_?"_

_ "Trust me, the feeling is mutual," he muttered. "But apparently everybody else was busy."_

_ "Yeah, I bet," she said, eyes dancing with amusement. Then she turned serious again. "Look, I get you don't like me. Can't say I like you much either. But if we're going to be teammates, if we're both going to have Rogers' back, maybe we should try and be a little more civil."_

_ "Are you…apologizing?" Bucky stepped further into the room, keeping his eyes on her face, trying to find the trick, the answer, in her features._

_ "I guess I am, if that's what you want to call it." She shrugged. _

_ Bucky laughed dryly. "That's rich, coming from you."_

_ "From _me_?" Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm trying to be polite here. And if I'm remembering correctly—oh, but of course, feel free to correct me if I'm not—_you're _the one who decided that you hated me the moment Rogers pulled me from the fire."_

_ "Yeah, with good reason," Bucky argued, his voice raising a notch. "We knew going in that anyone on that base of yours was a killer. And yet he rescued you anyway. Kept pulling you from the fire even after we'd gotten all that we needed out of you. I don't know what Steve sees in you. All I know is that when I look at you, all I see is death."_

_ Bucky didn't mean that. Not really. He just wanted to hurt her, if only to stop his heart from jumping every time her pretty eyes met his. Natasha clenched her jaw, glared at him, and Bucky knew that, if she could without consequence, she could kill him right where he stood. He probably wouldn't feel it. Her nimble hands would be slicing his throat before he could register that there was a blade to his neck in the first place. But he stood his ground, kept her gaze level with hers. And, despite the air crackling with tension, he couldn't help but think about how pretty she was. Beautiful, even. It was really annoying to have those kinds of thoughts when she was staring him down, but he understood the reason for giving her the name of Black Widow. Her beauty drew you in, that bright flame of hair just as tantalizing as the scarlet hourglass painted on the black spider's body. _

_ "I get it," Natasha spoke, her voice calm, cool. Deadly as the spider's web. "Rogers is your best friend. You want to protect him."_

_ She took a step forward, and Bucky thought for a moment that she really was just trying to be polite. She was trying to turn over a new leaf with him. Then the corners of her full mouth curved up and he knew he had just fallen into her trap._

_ "But are you sure that's all that this is?" she continued. "Or are you a little jealous, too, Barnes?"_

_ "Shut up!" Bucky's vision went bright red just long enough to fist his hands in her jacket and spin her around until her back hit the wall, hard. A small gasp escaped past her lips from the force, her head falling back against the wall, eyes locked on his, almost daring him to do worse. Now his heart beat with the anger in his veins, the adrenaline. He was practically disgusted at himself for thinking she was pretty a minute ago. Bucky's hands tightened in the fabric of her jacket, his teeth grinding together as he glared at her. Their faces were inches apart as he pushed her harder against the wall._

_ "You don't know a _damn _thing," Bucky ground out. "You don't get to show up here and act like you own the place just because Steve decided to give you a second chance. One that you certainly don't deserve."_

_ "You're right," she whispered. "I don't deserve it. But I'm going to take it anyway."_

_ Bucky gave her an angry smile. "Yeah. Yeah, you do that. But don't get too cocky. Remember, your stay is anything but permanent. And let me tell you, the _second _you pay that debt of yours, the moment that second chance is up, I will personally see to it that your ass is shipped off this base to someplace where we don't have to see your lying, manipulative face again."_

_ They continued to glare at each other, Bucky counting the seconds by the beat of his own heart. Natasha's features didn't twitch once, her gaze steadily boring into his own. She hadn't even tensed up in his grip. He knew, though, that she didn't need to tense up in order to be ready to fight. To kill. _

_ "Let go of me," Natasha said finally. Her voice was smooth, calm. Bucky was smart enough to hear the warming underneath. He forced the muscles in his hands to loosen, letting his arms drop back down to her sides when he'd let her go. He took the needed steps back, watching her as he walked out through the open door. _

**-:-**

**So, just a couple notes on this chapter. **

**First, the Steve/Peggy scene, I will definitely elaborate on their relationship in this story in future chapters. I can actually tell you that I have already written a scene where Peggy and Natasha talk, and you're going to get Peggy's view on her relationship with Steve. I just love Peggy and Steve so much, and they have such a beautiful, but tragic relationship that they didn't fully get explore and ugh. Steggy feels. But alas, this is a Romanogers story, so they're really good friends in this story, that at one point, were almost something more. **

**Second, Bucky and Natasha's relationship, I'm definitely trying to portray that as a very much love/hate relationship. They are a lot alike, I think, and I think that because of that, they would disagree, bicker, fight, etc. a lot. But I'm also trying to portray that Bucky's being drawn to her, just like everyone else is. As for future chapters, there will be a bit more Bucky/Nat, but this is still a Romanogers story, so Romanogers is endgame. (Yay for happy endgame, but there's much pain and angst for them to go through before they get there :)) **

**I think that's it….but any questions or comments you have, let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts!**

**Oh, also. I have midterms next week, a couple big papers I need to write, so I won't be updating next week. But I will the week after! I had a lot of work this weeks, and because of next week, I've fallen a little behind again. So, sorry about that, but in two weeks, there will be another chapter!**

**Thank you for reading! I owe so much to you guys for all your support!**

**-DaughterOfPoseidon333**


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